Heart Trick
by Darqstorm
Summary: Thrust unfairly into his father's over sized criminal shoes, Jack is playing the beach ball where it lies. Stella Grayson was raised from birth to keep the streets of Gotham safe. Their paths are fated for a collision course, and when the smoke clears? The joke is on Bats. AU, Post Arkham City, Canon Based OCs.
1. Prologue: Rough Deal

"Computer. Start a new criminal file. Subject name is Joker Junior. Subject height is approximately five foot eleven. Subject weight is approximately one hundred sixty pounds. Hair color green. Eye color blue. Skin color bleach white." The caped crusader sat in the command center of his lair, leafing through a manilla folder he'd received from Police Chief Haskell. A stack of them sat on the desk surface in front of him, to the right of the keyboard, and a still steaming, but half finished cup of coffee sat to the left. While most of his costume remained on his person, very little damage to it, rare a night as this was for him, the cape and cowl had been removed and sat on a table behind him, next to his utility belt.

"Known abilities and proficiencies." The computer's voice responded, prompting him for the next section. Bruce ran a hand through his hair, once a thick, luxurious black mane, but gray had blazed paths down either side of his head by this point, as well as dotting the crown of his head here and there. His face, once powerful, youthful, and strong, had a number of permanent wrinkles now. It was clear that he was no longer in his prime.

"Unknown as of this time." Bruce replied with a sigh before picking up the cup and taking a drink, flipping a page and looking at the mugshots stapled to the police intake forms. "He's the spitting image of his old man though. Presumably, he'll have a similar skill set. Looks like he's taking the copycat route." He looked up. "Add a personal reminder for tomorrow."

"Ready." The computer replied.

"Send Dick, Tim, Damien, and Barbara to scout the old known Joker stomping grounds. See if anything was left behind, or if Junior's trying to salvage anything. Also, set up surveillance around Joker's grave site and Harleen Quinzel's cell. I'll go speak to Harleen, personally, about the topic tomorrow. End reminder." Another sip from the mug.

"Reminder noted. Playback will commence upon waking." The computer responded.

"Resume criminal file." Bruce nodded.

"Criminal History." The computer's voice prompted again. Bruce's eyes narrowed as he went down the list.

"fifty-two counts of armed larceny, one count of attempted larceny, and one unsolved arson." Bruce noted. "Sixteen counts of aggravated assault, five counts of second degree murder, ten counts of third degree manslaughter." He ran down the checklist in the file.

"Criminal status." The computer indicated and Bruce sighed, closing the file folder and tossing it off to one side.

"At large. Armed and dangerous." He sounded more than slightly frustrated at having to say that.

"Personal Notes." The last section came and Bruce buried his forehead into his palms.

"Joker and Harleen's son has come back to town. In the aftermath of Arkham City, I'd made arrangements to have the boy taken care of. Sent him to a small town on the other side of Bludhaven where, I had hoped, he could grow up without being bothered by his parents' history. There were no incidents for over a decade, and then I hear that the family who'd adopted him, along with several other children, were all killed in a house fire. The boy's body was never found, but firemen had stated that temperature levels in the structure's sublevel had reached as high as three or four thousand degrees, more than hot enough to burn away any remains. Tragic as it was, I'd written the boy off as dead.

"Now that he's back, though... it begs the question of whether or not he was directly responsible for that house fire. He was careful enough to stay well under my RADAR for the following five years. Recent background searches revealed that he had memberships to a number of local public libraries, and had worked a number of odd jobs normally reserved for illegal immigrants. Using the money he earned he enrolled in a number of Gotham University web classes, maintained a fairly high GPA, did all of his work out of a number of cyber cafes." Bruce frowned. "Not the actions of a criminal mind, but more like a desperate vagabond. I don't know when, exactly, he turned to crime. But further investigations revealed contacts in the organized crime families of lower Gotham appeared just before he showed up at GNB with a false ID and an empty duffel." He took another drink from the cup, finishing off it's contents before sighing again.

"After his arrest, he identified himself as JJ." Bruce chuckled. "Like that was subtle, and then insisted he'd only come to inquire about opening an account. In the spirit of not ruling out any possibilities, I suppose it -is- actually possible that he was an innocent victim in that mess. But like my father always used to tell me, if it looks like a duck, it sounds like a duck, and it walks like a duck? It's not a songbird. And his most recent wave of assaults on financial institutions all over the city certainly do not paint a picture of innocence either. He successfully managed to hit all fifty-two public financial facilities in Gotham in just seven days. I'm still combing through evidence and reports to figure out how he managed it, but..."

"Important television broadcast incoming." The computer interrupted him.

"On screen." Bruce replied, standing up. The fifty inch plasma monitor in front of him crackled to life.

"Hello Gotham! It's been a long time, hasn't it?" The voice on the screen sounded almost identical to The Joker. Almost. The video itself, showed a line of men, all of them dressed in purple, green, and white suits, and all of them wearing large, rubber, 'Joker' face masks. "Admit it! You missed me, didn't you? How long has it been? Fifteen years? Longer? Well, dry your eyes, all you lovely people because nap time's over and I'm back, bigger, better, and jam packed full of one hundred percent more laughs." He cackled over the speakers. "But then... how do you know this isn't just some copycat scam artist? I mean. Anyone could rob a bank in a clown mask, right? It's been done! Old news! Right? Well... maybe it's time you see what's -under- the mask, then." The camera zoomed in on one of the men. "Could this one be me?" He asked with a laugh and sing-song tone. "No, you say? The bow tie is horribly off center, you say? This pathetic excuse for a copy is classless and dry, you say? I agree." A gunshot went off and the man fell dead, his mask rolling away.

"Clay Barker. Former inmate of Iron heights, incarcerated for sexual assault, aggravated assault, domestic violence, larceny, grand theft auto... and poor fashion sense..." He chuckled. "Okay I made that last one up, but tell me it's not true." Another laugh, far more hysterical this time, before the camera zoomed back out. "Mmmmm..." The camera panned back and forth a little and then zoomed in on another one. "How about this one? Hm? Could this handsome, strapping, powerful, young devil be me?" Another gunshot went off, but instead of killing him, it just grazed the top of his head, making the man jump backwards, clutching his crown, which was now bleeding as he danced around and cussed. "Nope! Too short!" And more hysterical laughter followed, as the camera zoomed back out.

"What's that you say, Gotham? You're getting impatient? Get on with it, you say?" He laughed. "My my my, people today are so very rude. Can you imagine what might've happened if someone had told Houdini to 'get on with it'? Huh? I can. And it's freaking hilarious." He laughed again. "But alright, alright. Would the real Joker please stand up?" And one on the end stepped forward, the camera zooming in on him as he pulled the rubber mask off and tossed it aside, revealing a face that was alabaster white, with painted crimson lips, dark purple circles around his eyes, and a crown of long, swept back, bright green hair. A nearly perfect replica of the Joker's face.

"Tadaaaa!" he struck a pose, a large caliber revolver in one, white-gloved hand. "Back from the dead, folks! And why? Because somewhere out there? There's an old, decrepit, rotting corpse of a Bat who just -couldn't- let me rest in peace. So! Since he's so determined to arrest innocent people until I showed up? I figured. Why let HIM have all the fun, right?" And then he busted out into hysterical laughter as he produced another copy of the same pistol, before turning around and executing all of the other men in rubber masks standing in line. "You got me with second and third degrees, Bats, there's the first!" He laughed, running over to the camera and putting his face about as close to it as he could. "You want me? Come and get me." And then more hysterical laughter followed before one final gunshot destroyed whatever camera he'd been laughing into, and the regular news broadcast returned to the television, featuring the faces of two very stunned anchors.

"Warning. Cyber intrusion alert. Firewall breached. Security protocols breached... Ha... Ha... Ha... Ha... Ha..." The computer just began repeating that line over and over again as Bruce stepped away from it, and a few moments later, sparks flew in every direction as the computer's hardware fried itself, leaving Bruce staring, wide-eyed, at a smoking chassis that had once been his main command console.

"H-how did he...?"

* * *

 _Yes, we. this story is cowritten by two authors. Most of these Author's Notes will be composed by Storm. This prologue was all courtesy of Darq. We won't try to interfere with your story too much though, but we feel like you should be warned if we babble at the end too much, that we do indeed have two different voices here._

(Spot for Darq to interject here)

 **And this is Darq, interjecting. The primary reason Storm will be writing most of these notes and tidbits, is that I can get long winded. Like. Really long winded. We're talking drunken Chinese MENSA level geniuses debating advanced algebra kinds of long winded. Yeah. It's -that- long. My wind, I mean. Eh hem. ANYWAY! I feel like I should -something- here that's actually relevant, but nothing's coming to mind at the moment. (That's a secondary reason, by the way)**

(End Darq's interjection)

 _One last thing, the obligatory disclaimer, that will be for the entire story. We don't own any of the DC properties presented here. These particular representations of the next generation of DC characters are our personal interpretations, however, and we would really appreciate it if you left our interpretations alone in your own works. We'd rather see your ideas, not ours!_


	2. One: Full House

"I'm getting too damn old for this, Bruce." Her grandmother's voice complained, as a crack from her back interrupted the zipping up of her still well fitted catsuit. Selina Wayne, formerly Kyle, had aged extremely gracefully. When asked what her secret was? Plenty of exercise, antioxidants, and the best cosmetics money could buy- and some that it couldn't. But she wasn't going to be left out of the fun.

After all, Family get togethers were few and far between. Partially because getting everyone together was a trial, and partially because, as Catwoman had whined from her side of the cave, well… not all of them were quite as limber as they used to be. In fact, Stella was starting to get nervous when her parents went out, let alone her grandparents. They were pushing sixty these days, and while they were in reasonable good health… the human body just couldn't keep up with the same crazy antics they pulled when they were younger.

"Nonsense, Selina." Bruce answered, suiting up.

"You're getting old too." She pointed a sharpened nail in his direction, as if attempting to accuse him of something. Stella shook her head. Some things never changed. Married for years now, and these two still bantered like they had in their cat and mouse days (as Selina called them). Still, she supposed it was refreshing to see that love doesn't necessarily change its stripes when you get older. It just simmers down to a low boil… most times.

Her mother in one corner was stretching out too. She was lucky to have regained mobility at all after...a shudder rippled through her. Bad time to think about that, with what they were going out to do. It was really important that the original Batgirl, who now went by Oracle behind a screen and Batwoman outside on the streets, was well warmed up before they head out. Her hair was still mostly red, but she had caught her mother plucking white hairs the other day in the mirror when she thought she wasn't looking.

Her father was running an equipment check. The Nightwing costume hadn't changed much over the years- just added a few new bits of grey were peppering into his sideburns too though, but he didn't seem to care enough to hide them. This side job really did pack the years on, didn't it. Which, some people carried better than others. Her eyes darted over to Damien Wayne suiting up as professionally as always. Now THAT, was a man. He was about oh… 7 years older than her, and had never shown one bit of interest in her other than as an adopted uncle but hey- nothing ever stopped a girl from dreaming, right? This was her favorite bit, when he pulled his gloves on and tested them for-

The sound of a cracking whip snapped her attention away. Even though she was sure it was only Kitty, it was still obnoxious. Not only for her but everyone else. Catwoman's suit had become more spandex and a bit less leathery over the years. Although the former criminal hadn't lost most of her figure, the leather was just too damn tight to move around in comfortable anymore. Katherine Wayne had no problems yet. Much like in her mother's prime, her suit was leather and buckles, with miracle pockets tucked in somewhere pretty unknown. she hadn't pulled her mask on yet, and her long black hair was still loose down her back.

"Sorry, had to make sure it was ready to go."

"Never apologize for preparedness." Bruce answered simply as he pulled the familiar cowl over his head. "But zip up your suit."

" _Daddy."_ Kitty whined. "It's not _that_ low."

"Yeah, Brucie, I kept mine a lot lower when I was her age."

"Yes, and I know what thoughts it sent through MY head, and I'm saying we aren't leaving the cave until its zipped."

This conversation was had about every time they all suited up together. Which, in and of itself is a really good reason not to get together too often. Tim Drake was putting on his suit in the far corner, off by his lonesome. Having taken a solo alias himself upon Damien's arrival, Red Robin was what Gotham knew him as these nights. And then of course there was her. Currently, she was the Batgirl. The most junior member of the team, even though she'd been at it for four years, everyone else still had more experience. Her father had fought and argued against her joining at all. He put his blue foot down every year from 10 to 16 where he finally consented now that she was a more appropriate age. After a lot of arguing and a lot of possible ways she could lose the privilege.

And every day still felt like she was on probation.

She'd opted for a bit more of a compromise. All spandex seemed old fashioned and impractical. So, she had the stretchy leggings in the striking classic black, but the rest was a much more modern take on it all. The top of the outfit was actually a stand alone leather jacket though, black as well, emblazoned with a sharp edged purple bat symbol on it. Her cape, buttoned on her shoulders with purple metal buttons. She'd even convinced Bruce to let her have her utility belt (and styling thigh pouch) in the same dark purple to match the rest of it. The lining of her cape was purple too, with the back being the appropriate bat black. And who could forget the boots? Purple too, up to about mid calf and laced up with black laces she was pretty sure was probably a back up weapon she hoped she never had to use. Practical though, no silly heel like Kitty's boots had on them.

As usual, she pulled her cowl on first though, just a simple eye mask with the traditional pointed ears on top. Then she began the careful process of teasing her ponytail out from the uncomfortable mat that it made into something a little bit more polished. It finally gathered at the nape of her neck and swished out across her back, hanging just past her shoulder blades. Kitty had finally lost her argument with her father and was rolling her eyes as she pulled her dark hair back into a perfectly sleek ponytail that fell in a damn perfect straight line down her back. How the hell did she do that?

"Alright, everyone gather up." Bruce called Stella out of her thoughts, and the entire family into the center of the cave. "I called all of you here because I want this guy taken down quickly and permanently."

"Sounds a bit dark. Even for you, Dad." Damien chuckled.

"I didn't say 'killed'." Bruce replied. "He's only expecting me, maybe Catwoman, Maybe even Robin and Nightwing, he's -not- expecting all of us." The Batsuit had become a lot less leather as well in Bruce's elder years. Rather than opting for spandex, however, Bruce supplemented his aging body with even more tech, adding body armor to the mix as well. As a result, the bad guys never noticed the change. Batman may be showing some laugh lines on his face, but it's hard to pay attention to things like that when his wrecking-ball-fist is knocking teeth down your throat.

"Barbara. I want you on overwatch. Take The Bat. When things get hot, he may try to run, if he does? I need to know where."

"On it." Stella's mother nodded. It was perfectly understandable, to everyone in that room, why Bruce didn't want Barbara anywhere near this guy. Stella was secretly wishing she'd be sent with her. She didn't want to be anywhere near this either.

"Selina. You, Dick, and Tim are with me. There are three points of standard entry. We'll each take one, work our way to the center."

"Looks like we're sitting at the Kiddie table tonight." Damien scoffed, glancing from Stella to Kitty, and back again. Stella shrugged sheepishly. _I'm the only reason we still -have- a kiddie table…_

"I need you three on perimeter." Bruce noted, ignoring Damien's comment. "Sweep for thugs, clear the grounds. Once you've cleared the perimeter? You'll go to the roof. There are skylights all over the central part of the building. Find one, stand by it. Things start to go bad? You're the cavalry." Bruce noted.

"Yup. Kiddie table." Kitty rolled her eyes, and pulled out her tablet, starting to scroll across it like she'd completely lost interest.

"I just said..." Bruce started to argue.

"If things go bad." Damien chuckled. "Dad. It's been how long now? When have things -ever- gone bad? Especially with Selina, Dick, and Tim there?" He chuckled. "I'm taking my phone. If I'm gonna be stuck on the roof all night? I'm catching an episode of NCIS while I'm up there." Damien rolled his eyes and wandered off. Stella couldn't help but feel bad. They really could use more people on the inside. _They're probably worried I'm going to freeze up... Can't be left alone… not when it's !clowns… and high profile, legacy criminals are out and about. Especially not with the history we have with this one…. Well… its okay…_

She tried to be chipper as she followed Kitty to her car, a sleek black Alfa GTV for business. _I didn't want to get too close to the action here anyway…_

* * *

The location was a defunct old production plant that had, decades earlier, been an attempt from Robert Queen, of Queen Consolidated, to move into Wayne Enterprises' market share in Gotham. Naturally, the company couldn't compete, what with Thomas Wayne's philanthropic deeds placing a veritable choke-hold on nearly all demographics, and though the structure remained, the plant had been shut down only five years after it opened. The entire property was surrounded by a fifteen foot tall, chain-link fence, featuring a real estate company's sign on the entry gate, indicating that the property was now for sale. It was about as dilapidated and forlorn as most other abandoned industrial sites in Gotham. The pavement composing the various parking lots and driveways was cracked, and potholes had bred like rabbits. Old, rusted, steel shipping containers, some still bearing the heavily faded Queen Consolidated logo from the plant's active days, over fifty years ago. And among this destitute and godforsaken landscape? Highly distinctive thugs of varying shapes and sizes patrolled in groups of five to ten, each wearing a similar 'uniform' consisting of bright, polkadotted pants, striped shirts (equally obnoxious), and large, rubber clown masks.

It didn't take a great detective to figure out who they were working for.

The perimeter cleared quickly. In order to produce minimum fuss, they found the three largest groups of loitering henchmen, and gassed them with knock out grenades easily. the stragglers were easily handled with a few quick strikes from each of them and the trio met on the roof in less than fifteen minutes after their arrival.

"All clear." Damien confirmed to the rest of the team, as Stella flipped back up onto the roof and Kitty on the other side swung up by whip and landed with an over dramatized stretch. Three skylights stretched across the roof, each one about twelve feet long and about six feet wide, made of fairly old and at least partially clouded glass. To Stella's right, the access door loomed, a little red light telling them it was still locked up tight. Not that, if an emergency popped up, Kitty couldn't handle that. Everything seemed to be proceeding quietly. She could see The Bat above making its rounds, and since nothing had been heard over the radios, it was generally safe to assume everything was okay. Kitty had made herself comfortable on top of and airvent, playing on her tablet, and true to his word? Damien was focused on his phone ,catching up on a show. At least ONE of them should probably be paying attention to the inside of the building. And since, it was technically her fault they were ALL three up here? Might as well be her. Maybe from this distance the !clowns wouldn't' be so scary. Right.

Keeping the access door close to her seemed like a good idea. Plus, Damien was positioned over one of the exits, Kitty over the primary ventilation escape route. It was funny, how they all just kind of naturally fanned out without communication to cover exactly what needed to be done. _I suppose it helps that we live together._

She quietly smoothed the musty glass on one of the panels aside and knelt down beside the skylight to get a look at the scene unfolding. Tim was the first one to enter the central area of the massive, dilapidated, former production facility. His entry was marked by a steel door swinging open hard enough to shatter the small, square glass window, a thug wearing bright, white and red pants, with a rubber !clown mask flying through the resulting opening, and Tim's black and red costume stepping through after him, a staff spinning around in a bit of a victorious flourish.

"Got here first, you're slowing down, old man." He chuckled.

"Hey, watch it." Bruce replied.

"I was talking to Nightwing." Tim laughed again. "No sign of our clown prince anywhere." he noted, looking around. Nightwing dropped from wherever he'd been hiding in the rafters.

"I've been here for three minutes, you didn't beat anyone, -kid-." He chuckled. "Plenty of thugs here, Batman, packing some heat too, but yeah, Joker's a no-show. How're things on your end?"

Stella laughed a little bit as Tim's triumphant prancing was cut short.. "Way to go Dad…" She whispered to herself.

"Fine." Bruce responded as the last of another squad of Joker's 'troops' fell unconscious. He adjusted his glove a bit as they walked towards the doors heading into the center of the room. "No sign of him out here. What's the roof situation like?"

"It's the episode where Abby thinks Gibbs forgot her birthday." Damien replied, somewhat bored sounding. "Does that answer your question?"

Kitty scoffed. "How far behind ARE you, Dammie? Isn't that like third season?" Damien's eyes flitted up for a second.

"It's Robin." He replied. "And I only ever get to watch it on stakeouts anymore."

"I know." She replied. "But then I mix you up with Red Robin, and just gets all kinds of confusing." She waved away the issue.

"Alright, you two. Now put the phone away and keep your eyes peeled. If he isn't here? He's left us a trap." Bruce interjected.

"Everything is pretty clear up here. No one's using the far entrance door, nothing's going on with the air vents." Kitty added to the report.

Stella nodded along. "And the rooftop access door is still glowing red- all locked up by that model's standards. " She tossed a glance backwards over her shoulder towards it to make sure. Definitely still red. With that confirmed, she went back to squinting through the fogged up glass. No doubt Nightwing had checked the rafters for traps, but who knows where they could be hiding? It could be something designed to trigger when the center of the floor was reached.

"Like… maybe a collapsible floor… Or or, the floor only looks like floor and its actually pie. Evil pie…" She muttered to herself as she watched with bated breath. From the this second story distance it was hard to make out the details on the !clown masks, but it didn't matter, she still knew they were !clowns.

"All good ideas." A white gloved hand fell on her shoulder and Stella felt her breath freeze in her throat. That voice...She turned to face it out of morbid curiosity and felt herself pale. Not as pale as the face she was looking at though. The face of the Joker grinning a twisted !CLOWN! grin at her. "Did someone through a costume party and not invite -me-?" He asked with a laugh.

"He's on the roof!" Damien called out as everyone shot to their feet. Except for Stella, standing up was suddenly quite impossible for her. Not physically. His grip on her shoulder wasn't tight or forceful. Logically speaking, it was a touch meant to spook and unnerve, But the mocking red lips and laughing eyes were more than enough to leave her paralyzed. Her blue green eyes went super wide as she stared at him shocked for a moment. She almost couldn't hear anything else going on in the world. Somewhere, she supposed she was aware of a batarang being tossed, and the snap of a whip being tightened. But all she could really hear was her heart pounding in her ears, and all she could see was !CLOWN!.

In that crucial moment where she found herself paralyzed, The Joker rose to his feet, or tried to, tightening his grip on the looser material of Stella's cape. Clearly intending to use her as a human shield, while his other hand produced a large caliber, pearl handled revolver.

"Batgirl!" Barbara's panicked voice came over the comm.

"Oh relax, woman! She'll be fine!" Joker laughed, stepping around behind her. The plan suffered from one major problem, however. His grip was only on her cape. That didn't work so well to pull someone up by. Especially since once she was shifted, she felt breath swell back into her chest, and with it, the desire to move. It also helped he was behind her now, instead of directly in sight. She was still vibrating with nervousness, but at least she was able to start moving- specifically, moving away. The glass should hold her scampering across it, if she moved fast.

She felt him twist to aim the revolver at Kitty, who'd raised her whip to start to disarm him. And that was when she started to move forward. He'd be too distracted aiming to hold on, right? The weight on the back of her cape lagged then suddenly started coming along for the ride. She'd thrown the !Clown off balance when she started to move. Momentum took over from there and her half-cocked plan was ruined by the extra passenger on the too old warehouse skylight. The crashing of glass indicating their new entry route. Instinct kicked in for her. Every good acrobat knows how to fall, and that means making sure you land on -not your head-. she turned in the air to be facing the ground, hands and arms out. but he was falling faster than she was, and still clinging to her cape.. A second after that registered, the splintering of the wooden crates which had been piled up in the middle of the room indicated, just as clearly, the Joker's new location. Dragged on course by his deathly solid grip on her cape, Stella landed on him right afterwards with a solid thump, and she forgot to breathe. Again, seeing what broke her fall.

"Batgirl! Are you alright?!" Dick ran over to her to check on her, waving away the cloud of dust with his hands.

"Ooof..." Joker grunted, clearly pained, but also alive. "Isn't she a bit young for you, Boy Blunder the first?" He laughed.

 _I'm fine, look I got the bad guy, Dad, and its even a !clown!, we don't need a kiddie table anymore!_ She wanted to say. When she finally found her voice, what came out was far less eloquent.

"Clown…" She whimpered, her fingers digging into the Joker's arms, wrinkling the purple suit in a shameful way, simply to appease the need to be grabbing something. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off of his face though, even if her vision was unfocused by the jarring landing, her phobia haze and the debris cloud that seemed to still be creaking. Or was that her imagination? _Trap in the crates? Crate monsters? Evil Pie?_ She felt the strong hand of her father pulled her off of the Joker, and Bruce stepped forward, grabbing him by the collar and smacking the gun away when he went to lift it, sending it clattering across the floor.

"Are you hurt too badly?" Bruce asked, his jaw tightened and venom in his voice. Her head was starting to clear, now that she was wrapped up in her father's protective embrace, but the world was starting to get a little muffled.

"Not as badly as your pride." Joker responded with a laugh. A horribly energetic laugh for someone who had just fallen two stories into wooden crates. "Had these nice oak crates to break my fall."

"Good." Bruce noted, drawing back a fist.

"Wait wait!" Joker looked somewhat frightened for a moment, waving his hands in front of him. Bruce was a bit surprised by the gesture, and relaxed his stance for a moment, skeptical curiosity burning in his blue eyes.

"Talk fast, Joker." Bruce growled.

"It's just, I have a confession to make!" The fearful look faded somewhat when Bruce relaxed his stance.

"I'm recording it. Go ahead." Bruce stated, his free hand touching a button on his opposite glove.

"Well, it's just that... I thought you should know..." And then that evil grin crept back across his face again, spreading mere millimeters short of being ear to ear. "I appear to have fallen for Batgirl." He stated, before laughing again. The laughter cut off sharply by Bruce's snarl, before he slammed his fist into the clown's face. A crunching sound indicating that he'd have, at the very least, a broken nose, when he woke back up. Stella envied him for a moment. Not the face punch, but the unconsciousness. It would be better than the unspoken concern tingling between her father, her uncle, and her grandfather right now. She didn't have to look up from where she was buried to know the looks they were giving each other.

 _Sorry…. I had a moment… but look, we got the crazy !clown! bastard, right? It wasn't that bad of a disaster…. just a little fall from a skylight… Mission Accomplished, lets just go home and stop worrying about my mental stability right over my head. I'm fine, really._ Her mouth opened, she felt it do that, as she assured them she was just fine.

"...Clown."

That traitorous word that jumped out instead. Time to give up talking for a while. Her father squeezed her tighter in response. It felt nice and she felt her anxiety levels dwindle to a dull roar, but at the same time, she felt her cheeks flush with shame. She'd wiped out. She knew it. They had to know it. It had been luck, and the !clown's iron grip on her cape, not skill.

* * *

"Muh?!" When the Joker awakened, he could feel the speed of the vehicle he was in, no doubt, heading to Arkham. But it was strange. There were no sirens. His hands were bound behind his back, and a lap belt held him in the seat, but the engine didn't even sound like a normal car. "Wh-where am I?" He asked, sniffing and turning his head. He'd been blindfolded, but what was that acrid smell?

"You're going back to Arkham." The gruff voice of old Bat-face Senior replied shortly.

"Bats? This -your- ride? I thought it smelled a little old and musty." He joked.

"And on the way there?" Bats continued, ignoring the crack. "You're gonna tell me what you were really doing tonight." He growled. Joker grinned a bit and then stopped, his face twisting into an expression caught somewhere between confusion and disgust.

"Why do I smell blood? Whose blood is that?" He asked.

"Yours. I broke your nose." Batman replied. Joker laughed a little in response.

"Hey, Bats. You break it you buy it!" He replied.

"Tell me what you were really doing tonight? And I -won't- break your teeth to match it." Bats stated with a certain tone of confidence and certainty in the accusation.

"What are you on about? You're as crazy as my old man!" Joker laughed again. His laugh was cut off quickly when the cranky bat slammed the brakes and the Joker's head flew forward, slamming into the dashboard, hard. "OOF!" Joker cried out, before Bruce slammed the gas again and threw him back into the seat. "Owwwwww..." Joker groaned, then chuckled a bit, amused despite his pain and rolling his head back and forth against the seat back.

"Sorry." Bats said quietly. "Thought I saw a deer." His sarcastic tone made it clear that he hadn't. "You successfully outwitted me and robbed fifty-two banks in seven days." The old black tights kept prattling on about it. "And then, you just -happen- to be toppled through a skylight by Batgirl, who, we both know, freaked out and froze up when she saw you, and didn't even put up a fight?" Bats asked, his tone incredulous. "What. Were you after?"

"Now, now, Bats. Dad's old journals -did- say you were always trying to spoil the joke before the punchline." Joker chuckled through his evident pain. The laughter hid his self reproach well enough. Bats was actually right. And somehow? That made him even more furious at the defeat. Ah well. At least the only thing he knew was that there -was- a plan, not what the plan -was-. Joker laughed and toyed with the idea of dangling it like a treat in front of puppy.

"How did you know Batgirl was terrified of clowns?" Bats demanded, his tone getting more forceful, his words coming more quickly. Either he was getting more desperate, or he was running out of time to interrogate his captive. "How did you hack my computer network without my knowing?" Another question. "And how did you know she'd be on the roof?"

"Those are all -really- good questions." Joker finally replied, clearing his throat, sniffing, and still looking amused. "And I'd answer them, honestly I would. But I'm afraid if I do? You'll punch me again." He laughed. "This game of ours, though, Bats?" He followed up. _You want a treat, little puppy? Dooooo ya? Hehehehe..._ He thought to himself. "The one we're playing right now? I can tell you two things about it with absolute certainty."

"And what's that?" Batman asked, agitation etched into his voice. If you listened carefully? You could almost hear his teeth crying from being clenched so hard.

"First? That it doesn't have a damn thing to do with my father. Legacies, blood ties, family matters? None of that." Joker sighed, still an amused tone in his voice.

"Then what is this about, Joker?" Bats replied. "Or... since you're not really Joker, what should I even call you?" He asked. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

"Merrily, the feast I'll make..." Joker began reciting with a gleeful grin. He dangled that hook and the old, cantankerous flying rodent just could not help but jump and bite.

"Rumplestiltskin you are not, Joker. Get to the point, already." Bats cut him off, agitation growing even more in his voice.

"Fine." Joker chuckled. "Since you want to be a spoil sport and get all serious about it..." His tone faded from light and cheerful to dark amusement and malevolence. "It's about an old, paranoid codger in a cape and cowl who RUINED. MY. LIFE!" He turned angry very quickly and amusement turned into yelling. Yelling that didn't phase old Bats in the slightest.

"So, to get revenge on me, for falsely accusing you of being a criminal, which, by the way, I'm still not convinced was -actually- false... you're going to turn to a life of crime?" Batman scoffed lightly. "You really are as delusional as your old man was."

"Take a look in the mirror, you moldy has-been!" Joker spat back. "You're not exactly a poster boy for mental stability yourself." He laughed again.

"What's the second thing?" Batman asked, changing the topic of conversation. He wanted to avoid it, that was fine. He couldn't avoid it forever, and he wouldn't like this one any better.

He chuckled darkly. "That you are going to lose." You could almost hear the old fart rolling his eyes.

"The Joker always said that, and..."

"And as you pointed out?" Joker continued chuckling. "I'm -not- him. You're going to lose. And when you do? There will only be one of two outcomes. Either you'll be dead? Or you'll be in a cell in Arkham. Wishing you'd taken door number one." Joker laughed again, and perked up, his voice taking a mocking game-show host tone to it. "What do we have for him, Al? We have a generous retirement package of watching everything you've ever loved..." He laughed again. "...be dashed to pieces in front of you, and knowing that you're powerless to stop it." He chuckled. Then he laughed. Then he cackled. And finally? He was silenced by the slamming of brakes and bashing of his head into the dashboard again.

"We're here." Bats growled, apparently not impressed. Some people didn't appreciate a good dramatic cackle. There was a hissing sound, and a rush of fresh air into the cab as the hatch opened, and Joker was quickly, and roughly, man-handled out of the vehicle.

"Him again? Slick as his joke of a father." The Warden said, greeting Batman, who took the blindfold off of Joker.

"Not really, he just thinks he is." Batman shoved Joker into the arms of two awaiting guards, each of which took one arm.

"Get him back to his cell." The Warden gruffly commanded the guards. "And for heaven's sake, -keep- him there this time." Batman started to turn away, but stopped.

"This feels really familiar." He noted quietly.

"Did you say something, Batman?" The Warden asked. Bats turned back and stepped up to Joker, grabbing his chin.

"You wanted to get caught." He stated. "Your father did this same thing..."

"Right before he turned Arkham into a madhouse." Joker laughed. "I know the story, Bats. It's one of mom's favorites." He grinned.

Batman tightened his jaw. "I'm following you to his cell."

"Not a bad idea." The Warden nodded. Everyone in Gotham remembered The Joker's rampage through Arkham all those years ago. Bats would be disappointed though. Joker was fairly quiet for the trip, right up until they started down the solitary confinement wing, where his cell was located.

"Don't suppose you'd let me have a moment with Mom?" He asked, the guards and warden glancing at Batman. They'd stopped right outside of her cell door.

"Jay Jay?!" Harleen's voice, still thick with a brooklyn accent, came as she rushed to the door. Her face visible through the small square window, lined with bars that gave only an inch of space between them. Batman glanced from mother, to son, and then back again, before nodding to allow it. The guards turned Joker, still holding his arms, to face his mother, who gasped. "Oh my god, Jay jay! You look just like Mr. J!" She grinned.

"I know, Mom." He grinned. "That was the point." Harley glanced at Batman, and then back to her son.

"And pickin' fights with B-man already? Your dad would be so..."

"Dead." Joker replied, cutting her off. "If he wasn't already." Harley's smile faded a bit.

"Awww, you don't mean that..."

"After what he did to you? The difference between he and I, Mom? I'm a criminal. Not a monster. Don't -ever- compare me to him again. Please." He stated. Harley's eyes teared up a bit, but she smiled and nodded.

"Alright, that's enough, let's get him back to his cell." The Warden noted and the guards tugged him away.

"Be good, Jay jay!" Harley called after him. "Do your mom proud, kay?"

"I won't just be good..." Joker laughed. "I'll be -better-! Better than he ever was! Better than even -you-, Bats! In fact? Don't even -call- me Joker anymore. That was -his- name." His grin was wider and more determined, in that, somewhat psychotic and dark way. The guards stopped and opened his cell door.

"Yeah, yeah. Back to your cell. Junior." Batman scoffed, before shoving him into the cell.

"Joker Junior..." The clown laughed, turning as the cell door slammed shut to grin at Bats. "You really -are- witty, Bats! I like it."

* * *

 _The ages we've established might be a little bit difficult to understand so, lets clarify here for you guys. Damien is around 27, Kitty is around 23, Stella is 20, Bruce is nearly sixty, and Selina is only a few years behind him. Tim Drake is in his early thirties, and Nightwing is is just starting into his forties, with Barbara turning 40 this year. (We've done the math, trust us, this works.)_

 **Hey-lo there readers, your friendly neighborhood Darq here with another little FYI. The events of this story exclude any of the events from the Arkham Knight game, as we haven't been able to get into that material yet and well, comic books retcon enough, don't they? Messy stuff, that.**

 _We love to hear from our readers, don't be afraid to leave a review, shoot us comments, questions, concerns, compliments, and scene ideas you might like to see._


	3. Two: Jack In The Hole

JJ wasn't exactly religious. In fact, if he had been required to choose a label of faith? He'd have probably chosen agnostic. The world, at large, was no stranger to 'gods' and 'goddesses'. What with figures like Superman and Wonder Woman who were all but indestructible and never seemed to age? That was about as close to 'god-like' as JJ could fathom. But if he were religious? If he believed in a God Almighty? If he believed that such a place as Hell actually existed? Arkham solitary confinement was probably the closest he could imagine to such a thing. His moderate build was more easily seen in the orange jumpsuits that the prisoners wore. He wasn't allowed a hair tie, so the locks of brilliant green hair, easily longer than three feet, sort of fell in front of him, like a curtain, when he sat on the edge of his bunk, his chin tucked down almost against his collarbone.

To the casual inspector? He looked depressed and sullen. Just sitting there quietly like he was. His days in Arkham were only ever even slightly more interesting when the psychiatrists came to speak with him.

"How are you feeling today... should I call you JJ?" The shrink asked.

"If you must." JJ replied in a more somber tone, his hair still left to hang over his face, his bright blue eyes glinting out at the shrink from the shadows that covered his face. The guards followed the shrink inside, with the warden in tow.

"Prisoner. Show your face." The Warden stated simply.

"The light bothers my eyes." JJ replied simply.

"Not my problem. Show your face or we'll shave your head." The warden followed up.

"The first person to touch my hair will die choking on their own tongue." JJ replied simply. The guards paused for a moment, before moving forward to restrain his hands behind his back and bind his ankles together. Despite this, they were all -very- careful not to touch his hair.

"That's not a very nice thing to say, JJ." The shrink stated, bringing in a chair. "We're good here." He nodded to the warden, who left, leaving one of the guards in the room with the two of them. Just in case.

"Neither was threatening to shave my head. Turn about is fair play." JJ replied. The shrink nodded.

"But would you have actually done it?" The psychiatrist was a man well into his fifties from the look of him. He wore a pair of well aged and used horn rim glasses, and his thick, medium gray hair was wavy, cut short, and parted very neatly down the left side of his head. He wore a typical suit of black slacks, white shirt, a necktie striped with shades of blue, and an Arkham lab coat over that.

"Shroedinger's Threat, I guess." JJ replied, with a light chuckle, earning a curious look from the psychiatrist. "The threat is in a state of both existence and nonexistence." He smirked. "Until someone touches my hair, which will collapse one state into the other."

"No, I got the reference." The doctor replied. "I just... wasn't aware you were educated to that level." He put his pen and clipboard down in his lap and folded his hands.

"I've studied a lot of different topics. Correspondence courses, web classes, books for dummies." He chuckled again.

"So you enjoy learning." The doctor nodded.

"Pleasure is irrelevant." JJ replied. "Learning is a part of human nature, it's inescapable. Every time we see something, hear something, taste something, feel something, we learn. It's how we crawled out of the caverns of the Middle East thousands of years ago and became the dominant species on this miserable rock." He stated. "But if you were looking for a more simple answer? Yes. I enjoy learning." He chuckled again.

"I see..." The doctor nodded. "So. Now to ask the more obvious question. What did you learn from your encounter with Batman?" The doctor asked.

"To not underestimate his cunning." JJ replied. The doctor chuckled, but nodded.

"Well... That... is one good lesson, I suppose. But it sounds like you haven't yet learned to adhere to the law..."

"Do you know why the pilgrims left Europe, doctor?" JJ asked. The doctor looked confused for a moment, then nodded and chuckled.

"Well, yes, every grade schooler knows..."

"Why America declared its independence from Great Britain?" JJ interrupted him.

"Of course. Both were cases where the offended party was oppressed by their existing government."

"Oppression, and lack of representation." JJ nodded slowly.

"But that's why we have Congress, JJ. You -are- represented..."

"No. The wealthy bureaucrats, businessmen, and politicians are represented, doctor. Spare me the speech on 'Democracy'." JJ chuckled. "I was an orphan. And a disfigured one at that. I was so easily recognizable? That the state had to move me three cities away just to find a foster family who would take me. And that was when I was an infant. So don't sit there and patronize me about how well I was represented." He laughed. "Because if you actually buy that? Then you're about as mentally handicapped as your patients."

"You're not alone in feeling victimized by the system, JJ. There are thousands..."

"Tens of millions, actually, as of more recent polls." JJ cut him off again. "Tens of millions of people, from coast to coast, feel victimized, in some way, by The American government. That's a lot of people. Almost twenty percent of the total population as of last year's census counts." He nodded. "Are you going to tell me that all sixty million people are crazy?" He chuckled.

"No, just that you don't properly understand the system..."

"Oh I understand it just fine, doctor. It's a system that promotes those who promote the system. People with money feed the system, which pays them back dividends, making them more money, which gives them more to feed it. It's absolutely beautiful, in both its simplicity, and its simultaneous complexity. The wealthy continue fattening their pockets, the government continues growing as it siphons from their pockets, and when it shits something out? The wealthy sell it to the common Joe to fatten their pockets even more. Do you know the only difference between the President of the United States and me, doctor?" JJ asked, obviously amused.

"The President?" The doctor chuckled. "I don't imagine you have very much in common, at all, with The President..."

"Really? The President is the commander in chief of America's armed forces, America's largest and most powerful 'gang'." He chuckled. "And you pay him a salary to send his minions off to various parts of the world, to blow up and shoot other gangs until they submit to his supremacy. The only real difference? Is the salary." JJ grinned, lifting his head so that the white of his skin was now visible behind the green locks of hair that hung over his face. "I make more than he does." He laughed. The doctor looked confused for a moment, and then stood up, moving to the door. JJ's attention turned to the camera in the corner of his room, the red light, indicating that the camera was active, went out, and in the next moment, JJ was on his feet, his cuffs and shackles falling to the ground with a thump. Both the guard and the doctor turned to face him with a start.

"What the... GUARD!" The doctor yelled as JJ rushed at him, shoulder checking the doctor, hard, against the steel door of the cell. The doctor banged his head back against the door and was knocked out cold, slumping to the floor.

"So, this the part where you shoot me?" The guard asked, handing JJ a set of keys and his pearl handled pistol. "Like your old man?" JJ accepted the items and laughed.

"Don't ever compare me to him again." He commanded with a chuckle, before swinging the pistol, bashing the side of the guard's head with the butt of the grip, causing him to fall unconscious as well. When the roving guard came to the door and opened it? He too was knocked out by the pistol butt, and JJ stepped out of the cell with a chuckle.

"You leavin' again, hun?" Harley's voice called down the corridor.

"Yes, mom. I have things to do." JJ called back with a chuckle.

"Alright, well remember! Be good!" She called back chipperly. And JJ made his way down the corridors of the asylum, five more guards were rendered unconscious before he'd reached the storage room. Stepping inside, he found his crate and cracked it open, dressing himself in his purple suit and re-equipping his various toys and belongings, before vanishing into the Asylum's interior with a laugh.

Not that his escape was overly shocking to anyone. Each subsequent visit to Arkham, the attempt became more and more challenging, just as his father's notebooks had detailed in their own, cryptic, maniacal sort of way. It had taken JJ months to begin deciphering the apparent gibberish that his father had scrawled, but once he had begun? He found a wealth of knowledge in those old, musty notebooks. Including the location of some of Batman's secondary caves, one of which was located directly beneath the asylum itself. Bypassing its security systems, and the security systems covering the security systems, had been difficult. It had taken weeks of work. But the end result had been well worth it. So many toys down there. Bats was clever in his own right, very well versed in a lot of different areas. But the problem with doing that, was that it made him a master of none of those things.

"Welcome back, Boss." Baxter Collins, one of JJ's employees, welcomed him, from the Arkham Batcave's interior. "Boy do I have some developments for you." Baxter was about of average height, almost unhealthy looking for how skinny he was, and covered, nearly head to toe, in various tattoos, with his hair dyed, currently, a fluorescent blue. He was one of the few employees JJ had that wasn't required to wear a mask on duty, mostly because his appearance was comical enough as it was, as far as JJ was concerned. "I finished decrypting the computers here? They are actually connected to an entire network..."

"Oracle Net." JJ replied with a grin.

"Y-yeah... you knew?"

"My father mentioned it a couple of times in his notes. He said something about the entire Justice League's informational databases were there."

"He wasn't joking..." Baxter replied, then stopped. "Well, -that- time anyway. Right?" He laughed. JJ didn't. "Eh hem, right. N-no talking about the deceased... Sorry, I forgot." Baxter replied, looking somewhat scared.

"Relax, Bax!" JJ chuckled. "I wouldn't kill you. I rely on your services too much." He laughed, clapping a hand on Baxter's shoulder, before pulling the gun and pressing the muzzle under his chin, laughing still. "Then again?" He paused and the laughter ended. "You -can- be replaced." He growled. The nerdy goth began quivering somewhat, his eyes wide, tears beginning to well up in the corners.

"P-p-please, Boss, it won't happen again! I promise!" Baxter whimpered. JJ held the gun there for a moment, before laughing again and lowering the weapon a little.

"Good. Cause if it does?" He aimed at Baxter's stomach and pulled the trigger. A bright yellow flag popping out with the word 'BANG' written on it in red letters. "Bang." JJ finished as Baxter jumped, visibly, and then staggered back a couple of steps, shaking from the after effects of fright. JJ rolled the flag up, and pushed it back into the barrel as he looked around the place. The interior, once very cold, dark, and very Bat-like, had been transformed. It now looked more like the interior of a circus tent. "You know, I don't think I like this motif. Why don't we build a mansion in here, hm?" He asked, nodding as he grinned around. "Something classy, inspired by great television, perhaps, like Masterpiece Theatre!" He laughed, and then yawned and stretched. "Oye, those cots in the SC wing are like rocks..." He chuckled. "I assume, and please tell me I'm assuming correctly, that because you're so happy about what you've found? That means that you have, as of yet, gone undetected?" JJ asked Baxter.

"Like a freaking ninja!" Baxter nodded, his grin returning. "Bats may be able to kick my ass seven ways to sunday in person? But no costumed freak is ever gonna out-hack me." he boasted.

"That's the spirit!" JJ chuckled. "Keep it up, make sure you get backups of all the data you can find for when they -do- eventually find you. I'll need that data available later." JJ yawned again. "Right now? I feel like a shower and a nap. We have planning to do." And he walked off towards the area that had once been an armory for Bats, but was now a rather luxuriously equipped living quarters for him. He closed the door behind him and sighed, stripping his clothes as he went. His face somber and thoughtful.

Bats had been right. That last caper was an embarrassing debacle. He turned the water on, making it as hot as he could stand, before stepping into the shower and sighing as it began to relax him. He poured over the details of the events that led up to his capture. There had been a lot of them there that night. Batman, Catwoman, Nightwing, Red Robin, Batgirl, Robin, and... whoever that minx with the bullwhip was... Catgirl, maybe? Sure looked like a younger rendition of Catwoman. And then there was another one, flying around overhead in Batman's jet. JJ hadn't expected most of them. Catwoman and Batman, certainly. Robin and Batgirl? Probably. Nightwing had even been a possibility. But Red Robin normally patrolled San Francisco, clear across the country, and that other Cat had been a wild card he hadn't known about. He'd heard tales of a Batwoman in Gotham, probably who was flying the jet, though Batman might've just had it on autopilot as well.

And what was Batgirl's deal? Surely with as long as she'd been fighting the criminal underworld, nearly four years now since she'd reappeared in the tabloids with her new look, likely a new person entirely, with the original Batgirl having been promoted to Batwoman, she wouldn't be that easy to scare, right? He chuckled and sighed, closing his eyes and tilting his head upwards to let the hot water pour over his face for a bit. Then he turned around and let it run over his shoulders, warming them, and relaxing the muscles there.

"Riddle me this, riddle me that... what to do about a family of Bats?" He chuckled, using the rhyme scheme favored by one of his father's old 'sometimes allies'. And then it dawned on him. A family. Casual friends couldn't keep such a tightly knit group and still maintain secrecy, they had to be closer than that. Batman had always been very careful to keep his physical features hidden, but no one else in the family seemed to pay that much attention to hiding all of theirs. He could use that. Any one of them, alone, wouldn't be identifiable by what few features they revealed, but if he searched for a family with matching features? That might at least narrow it down. He finished his shower and redressed before heading out to the main chamber, where Baxter was still at work on the keyboards.

"Heya Bax, I have a question for you. Would it be possible to identify a family based on a handful of features from each family member?" Baxter turned and looked thoughtful for a moment, smiling a bit.

"Possible? Yes. Basically, I'd just have to set up an automated search of public records, things like driver's licenses, school identifications, things people keep track of online with photographs and descriptions, and then set it up to cross reference those people with known associates. It'll take a good bit of time, though. I mean, even as top notch as this computer is? It'd still be limited by the capabilities of the network, the speeds of the government systems, which are freaking slow as hell by the way, and..."

"Time doesn't bother me. You -can- do it, though?" JJ asked, grinning.

"I can do anything with enough time." Baxter replied again.

"Excellent. I want you to compile a list of features for each of the heroes that showed up at The Queen Plant last week. Don't worry about what you -can't- see..."

"You think they all hang out in day to day life?" Baxter asked.

"Oh no, they're not friends." JJ laughed. "They're a family." Baxter nodded and grinned a bit himself.

"I can start with birth records." He noted, going back to work with a renewed sense of zeal. "We've got you now, sucker." He grinned. "What's the next step? Moving to phase two?" Baxter asked while he hammered away at the keys.

"Oh no, not yet. Phase one has only just begun." JJ grinned, stalking back off towards his bedroom again.

* * *

It had been a very productive two weeks in JJ's lair. The circus tent motif had been removed, and materials began arriving for the renovations. It was a slow process, smuggling materials in. New henchmen were hired as well, and JJ had paid well for these ones. Each was former military, and quite a few had been special forces. All of them had washed out with dishonorable discharges, usually involving a prison sentence. JJ's bedroom had transformed as well, though it's transformation was just about as pretty as the construction site in the main cavern. He'd set up tables all over the room with various devices strewn over them, blueprints and schematics for various buildings, his father's old notebooks, all opened to various pages with more of his insane ramblings scrawled on them. JJ was in the process of soldering something that vaguely resembled an endoskeleton for some kind of mechanical glove when a loud series of knocks came on his door, startling him and making him fumble and drop the soldering iron onto the table.

"Dammit! This had better be important!" He yelled at the door.

"Sorry, Boss. But you're -really- gonna wanna see this!" Baxter's voice came through the door. JJ sighed and rose to his feet. His clothing was disheveled and wrinkled, smears of grease, or maybe paint, hard to tell had been partially diluted on his alabaster skin by sweat. His hair was a knotty rat's nest on his head, and his eyes looked tired. It was clear that, whatever he was working on? He hadn't slept in a while. He stepped over to the door and threw it open.

"What could be so important that you had to interrupt me?" He demanded.

"You remember that search you wanted me to run?" Baxter asked with a bit of muted smile. JJ stopped and thought for a moment, furrowing his brows.

"Search, I wanted you to run a search... I wanted you to run a search?" He looked confused, then looked around the room again. "What day is it?"

"Thursday... why?" Baxter asked. JJ looked startled.

"I've been cooped up in here for two days?!" He asked.

"More like two weeks, Boss." Baxter replied. "But no worries, I've been keeping everyone on task. Those new goons of yours? Solid gold. Plus, we got the weapons shipment last week? Pristine. It's a thing of beauty, you've really outdone yourself, Boss." Baxter grinned.

"I should hope so. That last endeavor went over like one of my father's jokes." JJ replied. "Short, dry, and pointless... um... refresh my memory... I've been distracted... what search did you run?"

"On the families? Trying to get an ID on, you know..." He lifted his hands and flapped them off to either side. JJ laughed a bit.

"Good impersonation. Needs more black and scowling though." He laughed, then stopped. "Wait. You -found- him?!" JJ asked, the realization of what Baxter's interruption must've meant snapping into his mind hard enough that he was suddenly -very- alert again.

"If it aint him? Someone else's coincidences are about to get them killed, I can tell you that, Boss." Baxter replied.

"Well? Come on! Come on! Tell me already!" JJ said.

"No good, if I told you? You wouldn't believe me. You're gonna have to see this for yourself." Baxter nodded.

"Ohhhh... fine. FINE! Come on! Come on! Before the suspense kills me and you find yourself unemployed." He laughed, following Baxter out into the command area of the main cavern, where the various computer monitors all had various images pulled up.

"Alright, so, I did what you asked. I hit all the public databases for detailed records of anyone in Gotham who matched any of the descriptors found in the surveillance footage from The Queen Plant? It turned up almost half the city." Baxter nodded.

"Heh. That doesn't sound very promising." JJ replied, wondering if it hadnt been such a worthwhile distraction after all.

"Sure didn't. So then? I cross referenced those with each other? To see if any of them had close relationships? That narrowed it down to about a tenth of the city."

"Oh? Just a hundred thousand?" JJ scoffed again, looking even less impressed.

"Ninety-nine thousand six hundred and seventy-two, to be exact." Baxter replied. "That part alone took eight days of dedicating all system resources to the task. Hell, I had to order replacement parts and beef up the processing capacity on five of these machines to even make that happen..."

"And... is there a point to this explanation, Bax?" JJ asked, rubbing his temples with his fingers.. "Or should I just... you know... shoot you now so the headache stops?"

"I just wanted you to know how hard I worked on making this happen, Boss. I am magic on a machine? But this kind of search? Ten million possible suspects? Thirty different databases to sift through and cross reference?"

"If you'll stop explaining that and get to the point? I'll give you a raise." JJ replied.

"Your wish is my command." Baxter grinned. "Alright, so, first? We have this family here. Look familiar?" He pulled up a picture of the wealthy tycoon, Bruce Wayne, along with his wife Selina, and their two children, Damien and Katherin.

"Bruce freaking Wayne..." JJ rolled his eyes. Mister Moneybags himself. Gotham's resident playboy was, for the most part, a law abiding citizen. He, himself, hadn't really done much for the city lately, aside from starting a new foundation, a few years ago, to give aide to Gotham's homeless and destitute. Not that the program was any more effective than any other form of aid that filtered down to the back alleys and soup kitchens. And then there was his annual, televised speech around Christmas time. What a sycophantic putz. "What about him?" JJ almost groaned the words out.

"Come on, Boss. Look closer. Particularly at the two girls." Baxter pointed out. "That's Selina Wayne, formerly Selina Kyle, who had one hell of a rap sheet for larceny back in her youth. She wound up getting off easy when her boy toy there, Bruce, vouched for her, paid all her restitution, and then sponsored her for community service." Baxter noted. "They got married the day after she completed it. Now, Damien? He's too old to be hers. He had to have been born like five years before that or something, but Katherin? Definitely hers."

"That -could- be Catwoman and the other minx from the rooftop..." JJ narrowed his eyes at them. "And that Damien Wayne -does- have a similar hairstyle to Robin's... but how many dark haired families live in Gotham?"

"Do you really want that number?" Baxter asked.

"It was rhetorical, Baxter." JJ chuckled. "So, you think Wayne is Batman?"

"Yes. And let me show you why." He grinned, pulling up another picture entirely, that appeared to be completely unrelated. "Check this family out. Black haired, clean cut male, Ginger mom, Ginger daughter. This is the Grayson family. Meet Dick, Barbara, and Stella." He noted. JJ's eyes widened.

"Barbara? As in... Barbara GORDON?" He asked, his eyes growing wider and locking onto the older of the two redheaded women in the picture. It couldn't have been a coincidence that nearly an entire notebook in his father's library had been dedicated to notes about a ginger woman with the same name. JJ hadn't been able to decipher much about that one, mostly because the parts he had decoded already were enough to make his stomach turn, and feel like he needed a bath, a strong, hot bath, like, in battery acid. If his skin hadn't already been the shade of polished marble? He probably would've gone pale when she was brought up.

"Y-yeah... you know, Boss? It's kinda scary how you know some of these things..." Baxter gave JJ a concerned and confused look for a moment. JJ shook his head a bit, cleared his throat and then gestured in a vertical circle with one hand, indicating that Baxter should keep moving on.

"Nevermind that, Baxter... you said the male's name is Dick Grayson?" He peered closer at the picture, lifting a pair of fingers to block out Dick's eyes. "Looks like Nightwing..." He mused.

"Good call, Boss. That's because he is. Check it. Dick Grayson? Isn't a Wayne by -birth-... but Bruce adopted him after his family was all murdered. He was ten years old."

"...and became Boy Blunder the first!" JJ laughed.

"Bingo! Give the man a cookie!" Baxter grinned. "And then you have this..." Another dark haired male. "Timothy Drake, AKA Red Robin. Adopted by Bruce Wayne about ten years after Dick."

"Oh that's just tasty..." JJ laughed darkly for a moment or two, shifting his gaze back and forth between the two families. "But then, it's almost too perfect too." He was still grinning, though the laughter faded. "How can you be sure?"

"Well, once I figured it was these guys? I did some digging into their lives and put a timeline together. Check it. Robin? Has always been a kid, or a teen, up until recently, right?"

"Right. There've been at least three."

"Four or Five, actually." Baxter replied with a nod, hacking away at the keyboard and bringing up media photos captured of Robin. Three different shots that, at first, all looked like the same guy. "Check this out. Robins two, three, and four? Almost identical. Almost. Robins two and four? -Are- identical, except for age. But Robin number three...?" He highlighted the belt, gloves, and boots of the middle picture. "...had a slightly different costume. I'm thinking that's the one that... well... you know who killed. And then, -my- theory, is that Robin number two came back." Baxter noted. "But here's where the timeline gets interesting. See? I made a visual representation for you. Here? Is where Robin number one shows up. That's six months after Dick Grayson was adopted. And the first villain Batman and Robin took down? The same guy that killed Dick Grayson's family." Baxter noted. JJ chuckled and nodded.

"Keep going... I want to savor this." JJ's grin stretched even wider than usual as he watched Baxter move the timeline along the screen, pictures, dates, times, and events, all sliding across the screen as though in some kind of digital ballet, all leading up to the glorious finale.

"Robin number two? Showed up here. As you know, about the same time Robin number one became Nightwing, right?" He asked, waiting for an answer, but JJ was too busy grinning victoriously at the timeline. "Right. Anyway. So, Nightwing? First appears in Bludhaven, just west of Gotham. Dick Grayson is around 19 or 20, and went to college..."

"Oooh, oooh! Let me guess! let me guess!" JJ grinned clapping his hands.

"...in Bludhaven." Baxter finished, grinning before JJ slapped the back of his head. "Ow!" Baxter cried out, his hands clutching at the back of his head while JJ glared at him.

"Dammit, Baxter! I said let me guess! Spoil sport." JJ frowned for a moment, grumbling something about never having any fun, but then laughed and resumed watching the timeline. "Okay, okay, keep going." He said, gesturing with his hands a little more wildly.

"O...kay... So, Robin number two appears? Six months after Tim Drake was adopted. So on and so forth. Every time a new Robin appeared? Wayne adopted a kid. Which, no one would think twice about in public, right? Wayne's a filthy, stinking rich orphan himself, and a philanthropist do-gooder, so, no reason to raise eyebrows. Beautiful cover on his part. But the coincidences don't just end with Robin. Cause then? We go to Barbara Gordon." Baxter noted. "Daughter of the now Mayor Jim Gordon? Back then he was a police commissioner. Batgirl first shows up when Barbara was like fourteen, right? So, still a kid. But unlike Robin? There's only ever been two Batgirls. And the first one is now Batwoman. But here's the kicker. There was a time? Back when... you know who... was still around? For like, three years, around the time he took over Arkham? Batgirl just disappeared!" Baxter grinned. "She was last seen with Bats? Just a few nights before... you know who... attacked her in her own apartment. Shot her in the gut, bullet broke her spine and paralyzed her from the waist down. There were some news reports saying she might've been like raped or something too, I dunno man, your..."

He stopped and cleared his throat. JJ quirked an eyebrow at Baxter, who'd almost slipped again. The nerd had no clue how accurate he was there, on all counts, if those notebook scrawlings had any truth to them, which, they evidently did. "...you know who... was a freaking nut job and a half or something, but anyway. Batgirl -did- come back, here." He highlighted a section of the timeline. "Same Batgirl? But she wasn't quite as nimble as she had been before, plus she was a little thinner in the lower half, but check out her arms!" He amplified the pictures to showcase the differences. "Looks like someone's spent about three years pushing a wheelchair, doesn't it?" He asked with a nod.

"And then? I sort of hacked Barbara Gordon's medical records? Turns out? Her physical therapist signed off on the fact that Barbara Gordon could walk again... s-" JJ slapped the back of the chair hard enough to startle Baxter, who turned to look at him quickly, expecting reprisal, but getting a confused look on his face when he saw his Boss only showing excitement again.

"Ooooh! Lemme guess! Six months before Batgirl showed back up?" JJ asked.

"That's two cookies for the man!" Baxter grinned. "And it all comes back to him." He pulled the picture of Bruce Wayne up again. "He's in the freaking middle of it."

"Well, well, well, Mr. Wayne..." JJ chuckled at the screen. His chin lowered ever-so-slightly as his blue eyes continued eyeing the photograph of Gotham's favored son much in the same way a starving rottweiler would look at a truck full of raw steaks. And the chuckle didn't stop either, it only got dark for a few moments. "Have a few bats in our belfry, do we?" His chuckle turned into a laugh that Baxter joined in with. Baxter's laugh faded, however, when JJ's laugh turned into more than that. The insane, chilling, hysterical laughter of a vengeance-bent lunatic.

 _We hope you enjoyed your insight into JJ's life and mind. As you can tell, we've been hard at work researching and wading through various reduxs, continuum glitches, and dimensions to piece together a truth for us. This is slightly AU even for the Arkham verse, and we have selected what we feel to be the most likely turn of events to fill in gaps. In the case of the original paralysis of Barbara Gordon, in the New 52 universe she is only disabled for a few years, and that is the future we picked up on. The exact events of what happened after he shot her and his thugs dragged off her father have been unclearly stated, but several things have heavily been implied. One thing you'll find in this story, is that each character only knows what each character has access too, and information sources can be deeply flawed._

 **Important to note here, I feel, anyway, is that with the character of JJ, we aren't trying to reinvent The Joker. The Joker is a classic staple in Batman's rogues gallery and while pop culture has had a lot of fun in recent years with reinventing and re-imagining that character? I, for one, have enjoyed reading/seeing/hearing all of his various incarnations (and for those who want to know? Mark Hamill is my favorite with Heath Ledger pulling a close second). Instead, what we've tried, and will continue trying to do, is invent a character who feels that biological compulsion, that most kids do, to emulate his parents, while, at the same time, he's trying to find his own path in life. I won't spoil any of the planned future chapters or events, but I sincerely hope that you'll enjoy our attempt at feeling out this character and the possibilities that exist for him as the story progresses.**

 _As always, thanks for reading, we look forward to seeing you after the next chapter, and please, feel free to review if you have any concerns, comments, complaints, compliments, or suggestions! Something you'd like to see more/less of? Let us know! Thank you!_


	4. Three: Buying in Bluffs

Christmas Eve, an auspicious occasion in Gotham for the Wayne family. Every year, Bruce held a charity fundraiser, generating millions of dollars worth of support for Gotham's homeless, hungry, and orphaned, by way of The Wayne Foundation. Every year, the entire Wayne extended family sat in attendance. Bruce would give a speech, summarizing the successfulness of the past year, and hopes for the next. Dick and Tim would give speeches as well, both being labelled 'Gotham's Most Famous Orphans' after being adopted by Bruce.

Well, after Bruce himself, of course.

As a child, this had always been a highlight of her holiday season. She'd always been getting her little self into trouble sneaking into the donations room. She'd love to see all the donated toys, all the brightly coloured paper, and especially the pretty bows in shiny gold and silver. Even now that she was grown up, while the adults were doing their mingling thing, making their political power plays under the banner of charity, she found herself slinking off to the presents room, where some of the staff were still hard at work getting some of the last minute donations wrapped. It was pretty easy to find the wrapping tables, even scattered amoung the mountains of donated stuff. Just follow the sound of christmas carols played over a scratchy old record player.

Angela, one of the stoutest housemaids in the history of housemaids crinkled her nose and eyes up at her as she walked in, laughing happily as she taped a perfect paper triangle in place. " Miss Stella, I was wonderin' when you were going to show up tonight...I thought maybe you'd gotten too old to come play with us." But her brown eyes were laughing. As usual. but they looked a little sadder this year.

"Never, Angie." Stella laughed as she started to pick up some of the bows. The staff started handing wrapped presents toward her and she thoughtfully topped them off with the sticky ribbons. She picked up one large silver one with gold tinsel sticking out of it and she smiled absently, holding it up. "Remember when I used to cover myself in these? How many was it I got on myself that one year?"

"Forty Six. You tried for forty seven, but you only wanted to use silver ones, and we ran out. It took your mother three hours to get them all off you and all the sticky stuff off." They both fell into quiet reminiscing laughter that came to a slow close when the aging maid loooked suddenly solemn. "These days I'm the one covered in silver...and no amount of scrubbin' will fix that."

Stella frowned a little bit, reaching over to pat the woman on the hand gently. "Hey. I don't think you've ever looked better, Angie...Don't you worry about such a silly thing like getting older- You're too strong to let that get you down. Especially on Christmas."

Angie placed her brown and wrinkled hand on top of Stella's and shook her head quietly. "And speaking of Christmas, honey, shouldn't you be in your seat at the big table?" Stella's delicately coated pink lips turned down into a small frown.

"Do I have to? Its so boring now. I'd much rather be in here with you guys. Getting-"

"- papercuts and glitter bombed. I know, but I don't want you gettin' in trouble, so you better scoot back off to the main dining hall afore somebody misses you… Especially with no one knowin' where that naughty Joker boy is…"

Stella shuddered for a moment. "No one's seen him in months, Angie. The only trace we've even seen of possible activity for him? Was all the way in San Francisco, when half of the children had clown costumes for halloween…" It was a really high percentage, for one costume type. Each clown piece had been a little bit different, but they all bore the same manufacturer stamp, a double J monogram. Parents when questioned had simply reported that neighbors had been selling them for cheap, accounting for the popularity. The trail was very delightfully dead from there. Of course, it had fed into Selina's theory that JJ had simply skipped town for greener pastures upon his escape from Arkham…

"Mmm…. not worried, hmmm? Then why have I been makin' such a large amount of hot tea at bedtime, hmm?" Stella's blue green eyes looked guilty and she cheeks flushed a little bit. "Nothing to be embarrassed of, sweetie. Everybody here knows what that man's father did to your mama. No one blames the either of you for bein' nervous. Just don't give anyone a cause to worry, 'specially on Christmas. Borin' or not. My little boy, he told me, he's too busy for his momma this year. "

Stella sighed in submission and stood back up, dramatically straightening out her floor length dark green silk dress so it didn't have any of the glitter from the bows and ribbon stuck on it, and she double checked the tied off top at the nape of her neck. It couldn't be seen because her wavy red hair was covering it up, but she still liked to be doubly sure it was secure. Anything else would be simply embarrassing. Hazard of women's dresses as it turned out.

"Fine, fine, you win Angie, I'll go back and suffer through hearing the same spiels agaaaain this year. If it will make you feel better."

"It will. So take your lovely little self back out there, and smile big for everyone."

"Alright, alright… I'll see you when the "party" is over." Some party this was. When she was younger, they'd been so magical. Now? she found herself hovering by one of the drop off doors, watching as one of the straggler vans chugged up the driveway. She leaned on the edge of the door and pulled out her sleek little phone, to pull her texts. It was a busy time of year for everyone. They'd had to put most of the theatre productions on pause at Gotham U for the vacation. But all that meant for the stage manager was that no one was obligated to show up to do anything. That didn't mean she got the luxury to stop thinking and planning. Especially with their airhead director. She pulled up the As of her contacts list and pulled up the message thread with the Artist, their resident brooding creative miracle worker.

-Two things, Artsie. One, how's the costume for Prospero coming? 6:56pm

A chime went off mere moments after it had been sent, alerting her to the response

-Nearly done. Should be ready for final fitting once the holiday season is over. What's the second thing?- 6;56pm. The truck rolled to a stop and she looked up just for a second to see the delivery men roll up the back with a rapid click, click, click thud. Rushing much?Maybe they shouldn't have waited so long.

-Perfect, glad to have some good news. The second thing is please tell me you're at least a little bored right now too. I'm Misery, and could use some company-. 6:57pm The next chime that went off took a little while longer.

-... Are you asking me to come over to your charity thing?- 6:59pm She stared down at her phone for a moment thoughtfully. That hadn't been her original intent, but now that Artsie had brought it up…

-Well, originally I was just wanting somebody to commiserate with, but if you happen to have a donation, a tux, and a way to magically get here in the next two minutes before the boring speeches start? I totally wouldn't mind at all. Or even if you just wanted to show up so I have somebody my age to do the obligatory waltz to tortured cellos with after the hour of rambling. If I have to dance with my Uncle Tim again, I think I might cry out of embarrassment. For him. Man. Cannot. Dance.- 6:59pm She watched them unload a well over six foot tall box into the receiving area while she waited for the response. Despite the fact that it was taking three men to unload it? They didn't look like they were straining at all. Deceptively strong maybe? Or was that box just extremely… light? there was some kind of purple ink stamp on lid of it. Maybe she'd go check it out once they were done putting it in place. She watched them take it around one of the piles and curiously, she started to follow them. She really should be running to the table now but… once she was there, texting would be hard, and she really wanted to finish this conversation.

-Can't do two minutes, no. But I can be there before the speeches are over.-6:59pm Came the reply. She could hear the music dying down and the beginning of Bruce's greeting to the gathered guests. The scent of roast goose was suddenly free to move through the house now that the kitchen doors had opened and she was suddenly starving.

-Seriously? Artsie, you just made my night. There's some awful outfits here I can't wait to terrorize you with. One lady is in this awful ruffly red dress that makes her look like an apple, and another guy actually has working christmas lights flashing on his tie. I'll sneak us a glass of champagne…. we'll need it… See you soon! -7:00pm Her face cracked into a big smile as she tucked her phone into the silvery sash around her waist with a clever little pocket, and started to click her matching heeled feet around the mound of presents after the curious box. She must have missed the men coming back out while she was looking for the text. They certainly had been hurrying. There it was, standing a stark whiteness with its bare back to her. Her grin grew a little more triumphant as she hurried around it, dragging her hand along the side as she came to look at the logo.

Then she felt she was suddenly as white as the box and her grin fell away in one fell swoop of recognition. That purple monogram...the same that had been in San Francisco… Two fancy ribbony J's over a grinning drama mask, looped all around by another purple circle. She normally enjoyed seeing purple but… not like that. She started to back up, thinking that maybe if she moved fast enough she could outrun the chill creeping down her spine, and instead bumped right into something solid that hadn't been there a second ago and stumbled forward a little bit. When she looked up on instinct, grinning down at her was a toothy rubber grin, a bulbous red nose and crazy rainbow nylon hair. She felt her muscles freeze up, her mind come to a sputtering stall and just like before, the scream stuck in her throat.. That shudder finally caught up to her when two more clowns came into sight, stalking toward her, one of them holding a bright red handkerchief in between his two hands, reaching for her mouth. When she tried to fumble away from them, the one she'd originally bumped into simply grabbed her arms to prevent it. _Sloppy, I'm getting sloppy…. why didn't I…._ The third clown was holding a whole roll of silver and gold tinsel and for the first time in her life, that cheerful rustling made her heart sink instead of sing.

The radio over by the wrapping station seemed to be mocking her now as it wrapped up. _Fa-la-la-la-la...la-la...la...la…._

* * *

As usual, the sons had said their parts first, and now, Bruce was repeating what they were pretty sure was the same speech he'd used the last five years, and his family, bless their little batty and catty hearts were trying to honestly look like they were engaged. Well… some of them. Some had better attention spans than others. "Hey Dick..." Tim snuck over to their side of the table,and into the seat that had previously been reserved for Stella. His attention span had never been the greatest. "Have you seen Stella?"

"I'm sure she's in the back with Angie and the gifts. She never cared for this..." He started to answer, explaining why he hadn't gone to investigate it himself. Tim shook his head and cut him off with a subtle hand.

"I just checked. Angie said she sent Stella away to come join us an hour ago." Tim replied. "Said she was texting someone and giggling a lot, though. You don't think she snuck off do you?" He almost grinned when he suggested it. Dick, on the other hand looked a little more concerned and quirked an eyebrow at his younger brother.

"She never has before... and why do you seem so happy about that prospect?" He asked. Barbara turned to them both with a lifted finger and shushed at them.

"Both of you keep it down. She's plenty old enough to sneak off with whoever she wants. Frankly? I envy her." She whispered back, despite just telling them to hush. Boredom was a great instigator of mischief.

"Awwww, you don't mean that, Babs." Tim grinned over at her. "Your role model is giving a speech!" He whispered over to her.

"Which would be amazing... if it were any different from last year's speech. He's even using the same punctuation." She sighed.

"Fine. I'll go look..." Dick started to stand up, starting to get a little concerned but Barbara's hand caught his arm.

"Honey? You leave me alone at this table? And I will have the staff serve you divorce papers with your entree." She threatened under her breath. With the Joker's son still on the loose, Barbara had become very against him going too far away from her. And what's more? She was not enduring this droll experience while he got to evade it to look for their daughter who was probably just hiding out with some new toy in a corner somewhere. Dick cleared his throat and relaxed in the seat again.

"... at nothing, while... um... Damien... goes... and, you know, does that thing that I am -not- doing." He finished.

"Like I want to catch Stella playing tonsil hockey with her costume designer from school?" He scoffed. "Not a chance."

"Her... what?" Dick asked, suddenly on the verge of alarm, his sharp eyes on full father alert.

"She calls him 'Artsie', looks like they've been texting pretty regularly for about the past four months." He looked up and noted all three confused expressions looking at him. "What? Bruce tapped all our phones years ago." He scoffed again. It was his favorite noise. "Like you didn't know. Anyway. She asked him to come join her here because she was dying of boredom. He said he'd be here before the speeches were over and..."

"Okay... Damien? How are you getting all of this?" Dick questioned, half annoyed that Damien knew more about his daughter's life than he seemed to, and half impressed at the same time. Damien flashed them his his phone, low to the table, showing the text logs from the Batcave's computers being streamed.

"I was bored. Sue me." He sighed.

"Tonsil hockey, huh..." Dick took Damien's phone as non \chalantly as he could pretend to be, and scrolled through it, doing his best to keep their hall full of guests from noticing the obvious distraction going on at the host table.. "Artsie? Who the hell names their kid 'Artsie'?" He took his turn to scoff. "I bet he's some kind of punk. You know, one of those biker types? Wears all the leather and studs? Acts like a real tough guy? Probably even has one of those bizarre handle-bar moustaches or something..."

"Or a mohawk." Babs added, with a bit of a grin, obviously kind of enjoying watching Dick squirm about this. She could see the backs of his ears turning red.

"Oooh! A -faux- hawk!" Tim grinned and nodded. Dick looked up at him and pointed subtly.

"My daughter is -not- dating an emo." He insisted, he almost looked serious... or wait... no... no... he was genuinely serious.

"And a biker dude is more likely or acceptable?" Barbara needled him a little bit more unable to resist. Until Damien opened his mouth again and sucked the attention away from seeing how many worst case scenarios they could get Dick to generate in his head and which one of them would get him angriest.

"Actually, I guess I wouldn't worry too much, she got a text from Margerie Seivers two months ago, apparently the entire drama club is pretty sure he's gay. They're probably just talking shop in one of the less used store rooms, getting giddy over prop ideas. Theatre geeks. " Damien nodded as if that solved everyone's problem. They all got quiet for a moment.

"Damien?" Barbara finally interrupted the tense silence "Possible emergency aside? If you don't stop spying on my daughter's phone? I'm going to hurt you." Damien scoffed dismissively.

"You've never been able to beat me in sparring..."

"I never said physically, now did I? I'll proxy block all video streaming services from the house." She replied with a sweet but empty smile. As if she hadn't just threatened to take away his primary source of entertainment. Damien's eyes lifted quickly.

"You wouldn't dare..."

"So much for the season five finale~" She sing songed at him mockingly. Dick covered his mouth with a hand and a small clearing of his throat to cover up his all too amused laugh.

"Ohhh, you evil bitch." Damien growled, shutting the phone off and putting it away, scowling at the table. "Now I'm bored again." He sighed, though that state wouldn't last long. Bruce's speech hadn't even reached it's halfway point when the front doors burst open loudly, revealing a Santa Clause, and several elves.

"HOHOHO! MEEEEERRY CHRISTMAS!" Santa interjected, catching everyone's attention.

"Oh... this is new..." Barbara perked up again. Dick glanced over at Bruce, who looked both confused, and somewhat angry.

"To Bruce too..." He noted lowly. Damien started to stand up, but Tim placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Not in public." He whispered a sharp reminder to him. But the entire table was on alert again.

"I'm sorry." Bruce stated over the microphone. "Who are you again?"

"What, Mr. Wayne? The big red gut isn't telling enough for you?" He laughed, earning a chuckle from some of the crowd. "I was just making some of my Christmas Eve rounds, and happened to notice this charity event going on here! Everyone donating toys and money for all those poor orphan children? What kind of Santa would I be if -I- didn't contribute, right?" He asked with another ho-ho-ho style laugh. "Soooo. I brought some gifts for everyone! Pass 'em out, boys!" He lifted his hands and the elves, each carrying a green or red sack, began walking around the various tables, handing each patron a small, gift-wrapped box as Santa, himself, made his way up to the front of the room.

"Ah ah ah! Noooo peeking now." He waggled his gloved finger at a few of the patrons who'd started unwrapping theirs immediately. "Being as this event, this... wonderful charity event, is all about helping the orphans?" he said. "I figure that it's only fair... that Gotham's Favorite Orphan... begin by opening his gift first." he stepped up to Bruce after passing out gifts to each of the family members near him, and offered a slightly larger box than everyone else's. "What do you say, Mr. Wayne? Tiiis the season~!" He laughed jovially again. Bruce's face was smiling softly, but his eyes were burning calculating little holes through Santa's spectacles.

"Well." He chuckled after a moment, accepting the gift. "I suppose my speech was getting a little dry anyway, wasn't it?" He kept up appearances quite nicely. Then again, he was used to having to. He opened his gift, removing the wrapping paper and finding a box made of simple, brown poster board beneath it. Lifting the lid? He saw what appeared to be some sort of tablet computer. "Oh! How thoughtful of you, Santa. I don't have any of -these- laying around the office, right?" He laughed, making a joke.

"Ohhhh, none like that one, Mr. Wayne." Santa replied with another laugh. "Go ahead and turn it on."

"Alright, I'll just press..." Bruce pushed the button and his smile faded very quickly, his face turning pale.

"Go ahead! Everyone open your gifts!" Santa began laughing as everyone opened their gifts, each one receiving a similar device, though smaller, more like smartphones than tablets. And the gasps went off around the room. Each person saw a balance statement of their own personal bank accounts. All of them were empty. Except for Bruce. Bruce saw something very different indeed. And as the realization began sinking in that something was very very wrong here? Santa's laugh began changing. It faded from the deep jovial ho ho ho's, to a much higher pitched, and more maniacal ha ha ha. And just when Bruce finally managed to peel his eyes away from the small screen in his hand to look at Santa? The hat and beard were ripped off and tossed aside, revealing the long absent green hair and the eerie white skin and painted mouth of the son of the Joker.

"You know, folks, I wouldn't worry too much. They -do- say it's better to give than to receive." He laughed as a few cops in the room stood up and drew their firearms taking aim.

"Wait stop!" Bruce shouted at them, lifting his hands. The age lines in his face were painfully obvious, exaggerated by his sudden concern of what he'd seen on his screen. It can't have been something as simply as a bank statement.

"What...?" Dick asked, looking at him, confused.

"Bruce?" Selina slunk in a question from his right hand side, looking concerned. It was rare to see Bruce this bothered.

"He..." Bruce started to answer, but struggled to find the tactful, tasteful words that he knew should be used. Before he could, Barbara finished his sentence for him, her eyes wide in sudden realization.

"He has her..." Her voice barely even made a whisper, and her hands were shaking as on instinct she reached for Dick's hand. All the colour was drained out of her face. And certainly enough, the screen Bruce had been watching displayed Stella, tied with an excessive amount gold and silver tinsel to a chair in what appeared to be the interior of a van, a red strip of shimmering cloth used to gag her. Aside from the obvious, though, she didn't appear to be harmed. Physically. Yet. Sitting next to her was a masked clown thug holding a nasty looking revolver and an anxiously tapping foot that should he was all too eager to have a chance to use it, and the legs of two other thugs were in view.

"BINGO!" The madman shouted then collapsed into chuckling. "What? It's not like I'm crazy enough to just waltz in here with all the Gotham power players in one place without a little insurance policy." He laughed.

"Get to the point, Joker..." Bruce turned to him more directly. JJ stopped, and his oversized 'fat' jacket was tossed aside as well, revealing the upper half of his purple suit, and a pearl handled revolver now pressed directly into Bruce's nose.

"Don't. Call me that." He growled.

"Fine. What do we call you then?" Bruce asked.

"I've grown quite partial to JJ, personally. But why don't we let the media decide, hm? Just don't. Ever. Refer to me. As my father. Again." The hammer cocked back, close enough to the microphones Bruce had been speaking into, for the sound to be picked up and echoed all over the room, especially as silent as it had fallen. "There won't be a second warning."

"Alright then, -JJ-." The mayor stood up slowly. "You've got our attention. What do you want?" he asked. JJ laughed.

"I already -have- what I came for. Stella Grayson." He cackled, and the noise drowned out a choked noise from Barbara who seemed to be trying to crack the armrest on her chair as tense as she was gripping it. Just imagine the damage she was doing to her husband's poor hand. But his statement helped clue in the rest of the room on the larger picture at hand. "See. The -rest- of the clowns in this room... and I'm not talking about the funny ones I came in with..." He laughed, just a little to himself at the funny he made there. "Were actually -stupid- enough to bring unencrypted phones with saved passwords, credit cards with RF chips, and all -kinds- of little goodies that my men were able to use to just zap their funds away." He laughed. "I've gotta admit, Mayor Gordon. Your city? Has made me a -very- rich man." He laughed again. "But the -real- icing on this perfect little holiday cake? Is going to be The Wayne money." He strolled up behind Bruce, clapping one hand on Bruce's shoulder and sort of leaning against his back, tapping the opposite shoulder with his pistol barrel. "Refresh my memory, how much are you worth again? Six billion? Seven?"

"... Nine, actually..." Bruce sighed, lowering his gaze in defeat. "I will give you whatever you want, just let Stella go."

"No no no no..." JJ laughed. "That's not how this works, see. This isn't some dramatized police academy movie!" He laughed. "You're going to give me whatever I want, to not -kill- her." He replied. "Slowly. Painfully. And/or the ways she's down there panicking over right now." He laughed, tapping the screen with his pistol barrel for emphasis and watching Bruce's jawline tighten. "And once you've done -that-? Then..." He paused and looked thoughtful for a few moments. His thugs, meanwhile, were moving around the room, collecting valuable jewelry from the patrons, their assault rifles sweeping back and forth all the time. "...I'll -consider- negotiating for her release."

"I'm going to break you for this..." Bruce snarled under his breath.

"Yes, yes, the threats of a man who spends his time sitting in the world's comfiest chair, typing on the world's comfiest keyboard which is sitting on the world's comfiest desk? Don't. Intimidate. Me." He pushed the gun's muzzle into Bruce's temple, forcing his head to move to the side a little bit more with each punctuated word. "You'll begin? By taking your phone out of your pocket, downloading a personal banking app if you haven't already, and logging into your account before handing the phone to me." JJ insisted. "And be quick about it. If I don't report to the black can down the street two blocks in about twenty minutes? Well... My new crew is a little less patient and incompetent than my last one was." He laughed. "A lot rougher too. You know? -I- would at least buy her a drink first." He laughed again.

That seemed to be enough to leverage grandpa instinct over businessman practicality. "Fine! You win. Just..." Bruce pulled his phone out and quickly did as he was told.

"Ooooh, slick phone, is that the new LG model?" JJ asked, peering at the phone's screen as Bruce worked quickly.

"Wayne Tech, actually." Bruce replied.

"Wayne Tech makes phones?" JJ asked, looking impressed. "Very stylish. Very slick." He nodded as Bruce finished and handed the phone to him. "I'll be sure to put this to very good use. Now then, be a good billionaire, and put your hands on your head." JJ laughed, taking the phone and backing away, holding the gun at him while he dialed a number on the device and lifted it to his ear. "Heya Bax. You will -never- guess whose phone I'm calling you on." He laughed. "No, not his... Not... Ew... You actually -like- her? Ugh. And people say -I'm- disgusting..." He laughed. "Bruce Wayne's!" He replied. "Okay. Just shoot me a text at this number when you're done, hm?" He laughed. And then an explosion sounded off in the distance, causing the entire room look around in a dull confused panic. Was it rescue? Was it a new fresh hell for them? The mixture of hope and despair was intoxicating.

"What was... was that my black van?" JJ asked. "Oh no, poor Stella!" he feigned horror for a moment, then stopped and furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh wait. No. No. Stella's not in the -black- van. That one was the car bomb I was going to send to City Hall... I am -so- forgetful these days." He laughed. "Wonder what set it off, though?" He looked at Gordon. "You didn't send any cops to try and save her did you? That would be..." He laughed again and took a lower tone. "...messy."

"You son of a bitch..." Gordon started, but JJ's pistol was raised and shot a hole in the table in front of him, driving a series of screams from the room.

"Say what you like about my father, Gordon." JJ growled, like it was some kind of sudden switch, he was not even remotely smiling or laughing. "He was a psychotic bastard and everyone here knows it. But you say one more negative thing about my mother? And it'll be the last thing you -ever- say. Got it?!" He demanded, before stepping back and letting his face fade from a veritable mask of rage, back to the previously favored expression of amusement and laughter, the switch back in its usual position. He turned his blue eyes crazy gaze turning to Stella's parents, both of which were sitting, facing forward quietly. Barbara still shaking like she hadn't eaten in days, a deathly tight grip on her husband's hand.

"Nothing from the proud Papa? No threats? No warnings?" He asked, leaning over by Dick's shoulder. Dick's head turned slightly towards him, his expression tight and neutral.

"No need." Dick replied in the same low tone Bruce was fond of using when angry. "I'm sure you already know what I'm gonna do to you."

"Nevermind then, at least your silence was refreshing. Your lines are cliche. You're just repeating the same damn things he said!" JJ chuckled, pointing back at Bruce before Bruce's phone chimed at him. "Well. There's my cue, people." he sighed, tossing the phone down on the table and starting to back away. "I'd love to stay around and scare the hell out of you some more..." He laughed, pointing his pistol at one of the middle aged, well-to-do women sitting closer to the front, in a tacky red ruffly dress that was the very definition of eyesore.. "Especially you. Your scream? Hiiiiiilarious." He cackled a little bit longer, turning back toward the door and gesturing to his accomplices to start moving in their deceptively festive criminal wave toward the door.

"No, but seriously. I have a date with the granddaughter of Gotham's richest... well... -formerly- richest man." He laughed, still moving for the exit at his own leisurely pace. "Really bad form to be late on the first date, you know. Hey!" He spun quickly to put his face dangerously close to that of a fat man with a christmas light strung tie that was, quite frankly, an obnoxious blinking mess. The man nearly jumped six inches out of his seat and began trembling as though he were sitting in the middle of an earthquake, waiting for the incoming harrassment. "How's my hair?" JJ asked, before cracking up again and striding to the door, triumphant.

"Wait! JJ!" Bruce called after him. "Let her go. You don't need her. Take me instead." The chair's sudden squeak as it slid across the floor with

"Bruce!" Nearly every last voice that could speak at the Wayne family tables all protested in unison, none louder than his wife and daughter though. JJ laughed a bit in response.

"You're not really my type, Brucey." But he had paused his exit. To psych them out, to genuinely consider it, or just to play with their minds a little more. Or maybe he just had a rock in his shoe.

"Hey." Selina piped up, finally, both her and Kitty looking unnaturally worried for them. But she started pointing at finger at him, finding a place to voice something finally. "That's my nickname for him, newbie. Get your own."

JJ stopped and turned back to face them, tapping his own chin with the revolver's muzzle in thought. Bruce looked a bit concerned in that moment. It almost seemed as though he were contemplating how to silence Selina.

"You know what?" He grinned finally. "What the hell! It -is- Christmas, after all, right?" He laughed, apparently ignoring Selina's commentary. "I'll compromise with you, Brucey Boy. You can come too." He laughed. "After all. I think that's the way of propriety for upper class folks, isn't it? First dates are usually chaperoned? I think I read that in a social studies book once." He nodded. "Of course, the book was published in the 1840's, but it's like I always say. If it aint broke? Don't fix it!" He laughed again. Bruce started to move to join him. "Ah ah ah! Don't worry about walking. My boys have you covered." He laughed as his men appeared with the giant white box stamped with his logo that had so neatly given his men an in for the place, walking up behind Bruce and motioning for him to step inside. Which he did. Albeit reluctantly. Once the box was sealed? Four of his men, two on each side, picked it up, while JJ licked the palm of his free hand and ran it back over his hair as if smoothing it out.

"Oh, and don't worry, Pops." JJ grinned over at Dick. "I'll have her in bed by curfew."

He said before laughing as he and his men stalked through the door. He paused though, one foot out the door and turned back around to beam over at the seething Mayor of Gotham. "Oh and Gordon? In case you didn't learn your lesson? If I see anyone, and I do mean -anyone- following me? I'll deliver one or both of them to city hall's front steps in pieces...Except old Bat Face McGoo. He's got a talent for shoving his obnoxiously large nose into my business affairs." He cackled as he and his heavily laden crew stepped out and shut the solid doors behind them. The eerie creepy calm cracked and chaos immediately spread through the room as socialites were scrambling to process bottled up reactions and fly to their homes now that their immediate surroundings were madman free.

Well, the psychotic type of madman at least.

"Tim. Take charge here and clean up." Dick stated in a dangerous tone as he stood up, surveying the madness erupting across eighty suddenly not so rich people whose primary concern was the sudden leannes of their squeezed Barbara's hand one more time, but it might be a while before she was able to disentangle herself from her chair. Time they couldn't afford to waste.

Selina and Kitty slunk over toward Barbara, each of them taking a hand, accepting the responsibility from Dick. "Don't worry, we'll help her…" Kitty assured him quietly, while Selina quietly tried to coax the stunned Barbara to her feet.

"Wait... what are you doing?" Tim asked. Not because he was arguing with his assigned role, but simply to make sure everyone was on the same page.

"What else? I'm gonna follow them." Dick replied, walking off into the main part of the house, loosening his bow tie and shirt collar as he went.

* * *

 _Duh duh duuuuh, cliffhanger!_

 **Tune in next month to see the thrilling continuation of... *laughs* Nah, just kidding, we'll have the next chapter in a day or two, maybe three, tops. XD**

 _Yeah, like we could wait that long. Come on guys, it'll be fun! Don't forget to drop us a line if you have anything to add by way of review to share any comments, questions, compliments, suggestions, concerns, or favorite bits. We love feedback, especially the kind that highlights your favorite parts! Its nice to know what really stands out to the readers! And of course, we'll be happy to make a reply to your review as well! Peace out guys, keep smiling, we'll see you soon!_


	5. Four: Know When To Fold 'Em

"Welcome to my humble abode, Stella Grayson!" JJ laughed as his goons carried Bruce's box in, while JJ himself escorted Stella by lightly tugging on a strand of the special tinsel that her upper body still wrapped up in, though her legs were left free so she could walk by herself, as she shuffled along the slightly dusty concrete floor a bit numbly. The warehouse interior was massive, piles of debris had been stacked up against the walls, leaving the floor itself mostly clear. It was large, dark, and empty. Voices had that creepy echo to them in here. In the center of the massive concrete pad that served as the structure's floor, shattered, battered, and busted as it was, a makeshift command center had been established. The walls were made of concrete blocks, cracked with age and standing more than thirty feet tall, small windows closer to the tops of the walls had mostly been shattered out by now.

Collapsable tables formed a square, and there was some kind of big, metal, thing on one side of the command center. Three men, wearing black military uniforms with no markings, had welding masks on and were assembling what appeared to be a giant cage. Three more men and two women, appearing to be dressed the same, were looking over maps, diagrams, and print outs, while Baxter was sitting at yet another table that had been set up with a computer.

"Oh, welcome home, Boss." Baxter grinned over at him. "Got the package..." He started, then furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Stella. The poor stunned Stella kind of staring around at everything with wide panicked eyes. Every time she happened to look back at him, she tensed up again. It was actually getting a little old. "...and a plus one? You sure that's smart, Boss?" He asked.

"Who knows, Bax?" JJ cackled, moving the barrel of his pistol around in circles, aimed at his own temple, with a wild look in his eyes. "I'm nuttier than a Baby Ruth, remember?" He moved Stella over to a chair, taking her by the shoulders and gently sitting her down, and then squatted down in front of her, still grinning. The silver .357 revolver was then neatly tucked away inside of his jacket, and JJ produced, instead, a simple looking switchblade knife. "Now then, Miss Grayson. Here's the deal." He began with a grin, looking her over. Did the dress make -her- look amazing? Or did she make the -dress- look amazing. It was difficult to tell, really, but digressing, he returned his eyes to hers. "-You-? Are kind of a wild card here." He explained a bit. "You see... My plan was, well originally anyway, to get Bruce Wayne to come along with me, and I was -originally- going to trade -your- captivity for -his-, but then I just got this..." He paused and rolled his eyes around for a moment in a pseudo-crazy manner while he laughed. "... CRAZY... idea in my head to take you along anyway, and well, here we are." He grinned again with another heavy laugh.

"Boss, come on!" JJ's laugh ended and his eyes rolled a bit as Baxter widened his own eyes and sort of flailed his arms in Stella's direction for a moment. Baxter looked as though he were caught somewhere around halfway between irritated and terrified. "Don't tell her the plans! What are you thinking?! You know who she is!" JJ turned to glance back at him over the shoulder of his purple suit jacket.

"Grand-daughter to the mayor?" JJ laughed. "Of course I do, now sit down, shut your mouth, and do your damn job before I bleed you!" He pointed the knife at Baxter, who quickly, albeit sort of in the same manner as a teen who'd just been told he was grounded, stopped protesting and went back to his computer. JJ laughed and turned back to Stella with an almost apologetic shrug of his sharp shoulders. "Sorry... about that. I'm pretty good with computers and such, but um, Bats, as you know," he chuckled and winced a bit at the thought. "Weeeell... he's a little better. And Oracle? Better still, isn't she?" He grinned again. "So I needed to, you know, beef up my security protocols with a little extra mental brawn, so to speak." He chuckled. "He's mouthy, cocky, and a little weird looking, sure, but hell..." He fell into a little bit of a cackle this time. "...who am I to complain, right?" And the cackle turned into a laugh that ended with him wiping his eyes, as though blotting away tears, with his gloved hands, smearing the painted black circles around his eyes a bit as he did so. Eventually, the laughter faded a bit and he shook his head, clearly still amused.

"But, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted? I will agree to cut you free from your bindings, and -you- will be treated as a guest. Under the condition that you don't. Do. Anything. Stupid." He waggled the knife blade at her a bit with each emphasized word, and he was rewarded with a flinch with each brandish, then he smiled big. "Sound like a fair deal to you?" He asked.

It was a few awkward moments of her staring into his face still in a dull panic. She had the prettiest pair of eyes he'd seen before, and it was easy to tell, what with them being widened like they were and all. They sort of sparkled a bit in the dim light, though that could have just been extra moisture from any crying she'd done, or was trying not to do. She was being a little slow right now though. It might have to do with the fact that more of her mental faculties seemed to be concerned with much less productive needs. Even though he'd taken out the gag as soon as he'd led her out of the back of the van? She'd been dead silent. …. Maybe he'd broken her…

Then she slowly nodded, and JJ chuckled again.

"That's a good girl." He grinned. "Now, I need you to hold very still. That's a gorgeous dress you're wearing, and I would hate to accidentally cut it." She tensed up accordingly, making him laugh again as he worked the knife's blade in between the tinsel and the dress. A sharp tug of the blade later, her bindings just sort of fell loose and JJ took a moment to pull them off of her. It put him plenty close to realize she started trembling again now that she didn't have to hold still again. "Now that we've got that out of the way. Is there anything I can get you to make your stay a little more, you know, comfortable?" He asked, his bright, white teeth still being prominently displayed by his wide grin. "I could order some takeout if you're hungry, since, you know, we haven't really had time to set up the kitchen yet. I'm thinking it'll go over there in that corner." He pointed with the knife again, still squatting down in front of her. "I'm kinda partial to purple, myself, but Bax over there keeps pulling a Jagger and saying I should make it black." He laughed. "What do you think? What's -your- favorite color? Hmmm? You don't really strike me as a 'pretty in pink' sort of girl." He mused, still smiling as he chattered away.

She wasn't being too talkative back though, it was almost a disappointment. She'd parked those blue green eyes of hers down on her wrists and teased her hands along her wrists over and over again, like it was somehow keeping her sane. And she took forever to answer the question. Like, minutes passed by in that awkward sort of silence. Not that he could blame her, really. "Well, it used to be purple…" Sullenly, the response snuck out of her mouth eventually.

"Used to be?" JJ laughed in response. "Look, honey, I know I'm kind of a bad apple, but don't let -me- spoil the barrel." He grinned again for a few moments, before it faded away quickly, leaving a look of confusion on his face. "That's why you won't look at me, isn't it? Scared that I might hurt you or something?" He asked, his voice actually taking a smooth, gentle, and somewhat soothing tone to it. Her response was to flick her eyes up at him, holding it there for a moment before her grip on her hand suddenly tightened and she looked back down again.

"I thought you wanted me to be able to talk…" Her voice was a little bit less sullen this time, still quiet though. JJ chuckled a little bit and nodded.

"Oh, very much so. We have time to kill before Bats gets here to rescue the two of you, and frankly? All of these guys are basically 'yes men', and Bax likes to forget that not everyone plays WoW." He laughed.

"Everquest." Baxter corrected him in between hurried clicks.

"Whatever." JJ laughed. "So, let's start there, then? Is it my face?" He asked, then he gasped, lifting his hands to his mouth. "You're scared of clowns…" She bit her lip as if she wanted to argue, but didn't. What was there to really say ,after all? He already knew it was true. But it was no fun if she was going to be like this ALL night.

"And who can -blame- you?! After the shenanigans my dead bastard of a father pulled. Tell you what. Give me -just- a moment." He stood back up and walked over to a table. "Secondary masks, boys and girls! No clowns tonight." He commanded, and without a moment's hesitation, every goon in the room stopped what they were doing, removed their clown masks, and replaced them with ski masks. She looked up and around, taking in the event. Good, it meant she wasn't too stubborn to reassess the situation. JJ walked up to a table no one else had approached yet, and picked up a white towel, spraying a bottle of some kind of semi-clear fluid on his face, before scrubbing it clean with the towel. "I hate ski masks, personally. They're so itchy on your skin, you know?" He laughed, picking up a mirror and looking himself over. "The white part, unfortunately, is all natural... Is that going to be a problem?" He asked.

She seemed suspicious still, looking over at his back. But even in the mirror he could see her relax, a little bit at least. Improvement . "I… don't think so… I mean...I haven't… tested it or anything…." He nodded.

"Well? Would you like to test it now? Or would you prefer a ski mask?" He asked, still facing away from her, rubbing his chin with his hand a bit now. He stopped long enough to remove his gloves, revealing the skin underneath them to be every bit as alabaster in color as his neck and face were. His fingernails were a sort of pale green, though the color of his skin contrasting against them made them appear to be much darker.

"Well….I'll never turn down a chance to test myself.. ." She was very cautious in her answer, choosing her words carefully. Which, was much better than her barely squeaking out a response to him…

"Very well then." He turned around, his face clean and makeup free. If his skin and hair had been colored normally? He might have even passed for handsome. She started to tense up when he turned around, but the panic faded away just as soon as it tried to set in. She still looked a little wound tight, but that was par for the kidnapped course, wasn't it?

"Well…. … that answers that…" She blinked, almost surprised at her lack of reaction. How simple and easy it was to dispel. If only the suspicion went way that quickly.

"Excellent! Now then..." He moved back towards her, grabbing another chair and flipping it around before setting it down in front of her, facing the same direction hers was, before sitting in it with his legs straddling the back rest and his arms folded on top of it. "Any thoughts to revise now that you can talk more freely?" He asked with a grin. "Or, have I still scared you away from purple?"

Other than a little flinch when he moved so suddenly, she seemed to be in a much better mental state now. "I think that monochrome can get a little boring...I suggest mixing it up. I hear black stainless steel is super trendy…." she was leaned back in her her chair, as if trying to keep distance between them still. At least when she spoke now, her words were more carefully chosen and less almost choked out. "So, I guess my answer is... both?"

Then her eyes focused on his shirt for a moment and she almost sheepishly pointed toward it. "And maybe a little bit of that too…"

"Black, stainless steel... and..." He looked at her finger, then down at his shirt. "This?" He asked, tugging on his shirt. "Hmmm..." He rose back out of the chair and removed his jacket, laying it over the table closest to him, his back to her now.

"Well, actually I was suggesting you use black stainless steel as the met….." Without any warning at all, he pulled his shirt off and laying it down beside it. With his back still to her, Stella could see that his skin was every bit as white all over him. And moreover? He was every bit as powerfully built as any member in her family. There was an odd part of his skin, though. A sort of splotchy part, it looked like a burn scar, almost, but if it was one, it was a very old one.

"...al…." Her voice finished in a very confused tone, but he had bigger things to worry about.

"Black... black... I need something... Bax! Gimme your jacket!" He yelled. Bax, who'd made sure he was occupied with his computer turned to look at him and then did a double take.

"Why are you... Know what? Nevermind. Not my business. Don't wanna know. And if you're putting this on? Keep it." He said, turning his gaze away as he removed his black, leather jacket and pretty much threw it at him. JJ laid it out with the other two and then stood for a moment, inspecting the three colors.

then she reminded him she was there again by clearing her throat. When he turned to look at her, the blush on her cheeks was more than a little obvious… and a little curious too. "Its your own suit… you already know it looks good together, and black looks good with everything...why do you need the visual?"

He cracked a patient grin at her. "Because the imagination can be misleading. Especially when you're... well... '

"...Crazy?" she suggested, a bit too quickly.

"I was going to say... a bit unstable." He laughed in response "But hey, lets call an ace an ace." There was a tattoo visible over his left pectoral region now that he was facing her. A joker card with a knife stabbed through it. His chest had a very light dusting of pale green hair that was visible for a moment before he turned back to face the colors again.

"Right…. is it...absolutely necessary for you to be...um…. um….. shirtless…. right now?" Was that discomfort in her voice? Whatever could that be for? His grin cracked wider with his thoughts.

"Necessary? No. You'll find, Stella, that very few things I do are -actually- considered 'necessary'. It's mostly for fun." He chuckled. "And what, with you blushing and cracking your voice like that? It's getting more fun by the second!" He laughed again. He heard a little noise of indignation from her.

"Then let me know when you've got it back on, my eyes are starting to hurt…"

"Oh I bet they are, trying to bulge out of the sockets like that. It isn't natural." He laughed, but finally decided that he'd found a combination he liked and started to put his shirt back on, then he decided against it and put the black, leather jacket on instead. "Hey! This fits pretty well! Don't you think, Stella?" He laughed and turned around to show her. "Thanks, Bax!"

"Ugh... Don't mention it... like... ever again." Bax looked over, briefly, and sort of groaned the response.

But he was watching her crack open one eye in curiosity. And he watched that little blush swell up brighter when she did. Her hands, folded primly in her lap tightened their grip on each other and she coughed a little bit, then shut her eye again. "S-sure… lovely contrast… …"

"Why... Stella Grayson... do you have a thing for pale white skin?" He asked, stepping closer to her and returning his chair, straddling it again. "Or is it the physique? See. After our -last- whole... snafu? I decided that it was probably best to get myself in fighting shape." He chuckled. "Clearly, there are some fringe benefits to having done it though..."

"...Our?" That hadn't been the part he'd wanted the reaction to...but it had worked, her eyes had snapped open and she was looking at him again, those fascinating eyes reeling with confusion and anxiety.

The box containing Bruce Wayne thumped a bit and interrupted him, making him look over at it.

"Oh! Bruce!" He laughed. "I'd almost forgotten you were there! Help him up, boys! Lets get him a seat, shall we?" Two of the masked thugs opened the box and pulled Bruce back to his feet, allowing him to brush himself off.

"So what are we doing here, JJ?" Bruce asked, glaring at him.

"Waiting for Bats of course..." JJ started to laugh.

"No you're not." Bruce replied, his gaze still cold and hard. "You just referred to Stella as Batgirl." Bruce pointed out.

"What? No I didn't, I..."

"You said, and I quote: 'After our last snafu...' implying that you met her before. You were there, at the dinner, targeting -me-, also by your own admission. You're not waiting on Batman. You're waiting to see if Dick or Tim will show up in the suit you already know belongs to me." Bruce's gaze remained hard and cold. JJ's look of innocence and confusion, however, faded into a low chuckle, and then a lighter chuckle, and finally a full blown bout of maniacal, whooping laughter.

"Dammit all to hell..." He breathed out when the laughter was done. Always something, wasn't there?

"I -told- you she was a bad idea, Boss." Bax stood up and turned to face them, having put a mask over his own face the moment the box was opened. JJ turned to glare at Baxter, who sat down in silence again. He'd have to remind Baxter who worked for who later. Right now? He had bigger bats to fry.

"Your beef is with me, JJ." Bruce brought JJ's attention back to him. "And you've been preparing for this for eight long months... You don't need Stella..."

"Wrong." JJ's grin turned dark again, his pistol produced again and aimed at Bruce's head as he stepped towards him. "She's insurance. To keep the others from getting involved." He explained.

"Wait, but you said..." Bax started.

"It's called a lie, Bax. It's something that we criminal types -do- every now and again. And if you interrupt me. ONE. MORE. TIME..." He barked over at Baxter, before grinning back at Bruce again. He laughed again before he stepped even closer to Bruce, burying the muzzle of the pistol right into his sternum as his laughter faded. "I have been dreaming of this moment for two long years now. The moment that I would have Bats, face to face, and could return the favor he gave me."

"Just one thing I need to know, how'd you figure it out?" Bruce asked.

"Wasn't hard, really. I mean, you left a media trail about as wide as gulf of mexico." JJ laughed, stepping backwards again, slowly. "Adopting a robin six months before putting him into service? Every time?" JJ tsk tsked and shook his head. "You're very organized and systematic, Bruce. But the problem with that, is it makes you predictable." He stopped a couple of feet outside of Bruce's arm's reach. "My last trap was sloppy, you were right. I let the rage get to my head. You took my life from me, something I'd worked so damn hard for? Well..." He laughed. "I just couldn't wait to kill you. It's a mistake I won't make again."

"Then what's stopping you?" Bruce replied, unphased.

"Because it's -you- dammit!" JJ growled, tightening his grip on the pistol and shaking it at him. "Bruce Freaking Wayne! The man who -put- me in that wonderful home as an infant! Hand freaking delivered me to their door! Don't tell me you don't recognize me..." He laughed. "My features are, after all, kinda distinguishable." JJ grinned.

"Oh no, I remember you." Bruce nodded. "I'd hoped that by moving you away from Gotham, you could grow up outside of your father's sphere of influence. You'd have a better chance at a normal life..." He was cut off, sharply, by JJ's resounding laughter.

"Dammit man! How could -you- simultaneously, be my single -favorite- man in Gotham, and my most despised enemy?! You gave me to my parents..." There was a slight squeak of a chair behind him, but the movement stopped when the hammer on Baxter's gun clicked back.

"Ah-ah-ah, Ginger, Nothing stupid, remember?"

"And you repaid the favor by burning them alive." Bruce replied. JJ's blue eyes went wide for the briefest of moments before his jaw tightened again. The humour was all gone now.

"Ten. Years. Old." He seethed, before drawing back the pistol and starting to swing at Bruce's face. It was interrupted, when a small, black, metallic object. struck his fingers, forcing him to drop the gun. "Oh. NOW you show up!" He yelled, turning furiously to see Dick drop to the ground in the Batman costume.

"Hold it right there, JJ. You're going back to Arkham." Dick growled.

"Like I said, Bruce... Predictable." JJ scoffed. Bruce started to move, but JJ's arm flung up at him, a concealed wrist mount projecting a derringer pistol into his hand and aiming at Bruce's nose. "We, Bruce, will finish our chat later. Believe you me? You owe me something. And I -will- collect." He then turned his gaze back to the other Batman, before looking around at all the goons in the room, rolling his eyes and sighing. "The hell are you all waiting for?! A personal invitation?! FREAKING KILL HIM YOU FOOLS!" he shouted, and every goon in the room turned their weapons on Dick and began firing.

While Dick was dodging bullets and looking for an angle of attack on JJ's thugs? Bruce took advantage of the momentary distraction to knock JJ's hand out of his face, and follow that up with a powerful punch to the jaw, knocking him back a couple steps and driving a laugh from him.

"So what went first with -your- age, Bats, hm?" He grinned, a small glimmer of blood on his now busted lip. "Clearly, it wasn't your right hook." He laughed, standing only about two feet away from Stella at this point. "But you're not wearing body armor tonight. Old. Man." And JJ lifted the derringer, firing a shot into Bruce's chest and knocking the old man down.

At the same time the kickback threw his balance off just slightly, and his attention was solely focused on his victim, there was a sharp tug on the tail edge of his leather jacket, and he started to careen backwards. Baxter moved to try and get a shot, but with JJ being an inadvertant human shield, Stella his aggressor, and Dick Grayson running around in a Bat suit? He frowned and ducked under his desk instead. JJ, however, despite his staggering backwards, didn't go very far before his head fell against a soft silk knee and his butt hit the concrete floor, ejecting a grunt from his mouth. Looking up? He spotted Stella, looking back down at him.

"Well hello again, Gorgeous, is this seat taken?" He laughed, but while he was still reeling from that unfortunate change in position, his shooting hand still tingling, his arm was tilted uncomfortably back, his elbow near his chin and the gun pointing down at the floor. "Owwww! Ow! Ow! Ow! Watch the wristwatch, it's expensive!" He laughed as he winced in pain.

"It's just a thing." She pushed it back more deliberately, in response to his protest. Almost like she was upset or something.

"Ungh!" He grunted out in response to the torquing on his arm, before laughing again. She wanted to play rough, did she? He -loved- those kinds of games. To keep him in her lap, she leaned down and laid her forearm across his neck, glowering down at him. Definitely upset.

"Not cool, JJ. Tell them to stop shooting." She spoke in as threatening a tone as she could muster, but JJ merely laughed again, albeit his voice a little pained at this point.

"Or else what? You gonna kill me?" He asked with a wide, dangerous grin. "Cause neither of them would. So I'm -guessing- you won't either." He chuckled, attempting to move to get a little more comfortable, and then releasing a hissing wince when the attempt only caused more pain.

"You'd be surprised what you can live through." She answered pretty levelly for someone who's face was so red with anger it almost made her hair seem lifeless. The stressors of the night had pulled it out of its barrette though and it was falling down over her shoulder, tickling him in the nose.

"Not really. Ungh. My old man left me some notebooks." JJ laughed, wiggling his nose a little to prevent sneezing. "He detailed just about every injury Bats ever gave him. I know -exactly- what I can live through. And what you can't..." His free arm moved in such a way that the heel of his hand was aimed slightly above his head and in front of him. The razor sharp blade hidden in the other wrist mount extended, dangerously close to her neck. "Don't make me a liar, Stella..." He chuckled, his left eye still twitching slightly from the pain in his arm. The gunfire continually going off around them, as JJ's soldiers kept the fake Batman pinned down behind one obstacle or another, seemed to be far less relevant at the moment.

Her stormy eyes flashed away from his face for a moment, over to the needle sharp blade shining in the fluorescent light. "The only person who's in control of that is you..." She didn't let up on the pressure over his throat or against his elbow. Keeping her body low over him to maximize the amount of force she could apply had unfortunately left her open for that counter strike. Her pulse on her neck became almost visible how fast it was was pumping.

"Just tell them to stop shooting." Stella insisted, glancing around at a few of the goons, who'd paused to reload.

"Do you know what integrity and honesty gets you in Arkham, Stella?" he laughed. "Dead. If I'm going back? I won't be needing those things anymore anyway. You have a choice to make. You can release my arm, and end this entire thing now. Or you can make me go back on my word and finish what your grandfather started. Make your choice quickly..." His free arm stretched a bit, the blade's flat touching her skin ever so slightly. "My arm's getting tired..." He laughed.

"You don't make any sense. First you say they not worth anything, then you tell me you don't need it, then you tell me to choose to let you keep it." She growled out at him. When the cold metal touched her skin she jumped a little bit though, the motion twisting his elbow back a little bit further when she came back down from it.. Good thing she didn't have another hand.

"Ungh! That hurt..." He grunted and then laughed again. "I... I didn't tell you -which- choice to make. I just said to make one." He laughed again, still staring into her eyes. Ah well, if it was going to be the last thing he saw in the free world? At least it was a pleasant sight. Somehow not at all damaged by the flashing anger in them.

His determination to keep staring at her eyes even while threatening her was unnerving. She felt her hands start to shake a little bit. "Its a sucker's choice. Either I die, or your goons kill my father?" The firefight was still raging. Normally? Bats would've had them pinned down by now. Clearly, he'd chosen this batch of goons well.

"I never said your father would be killed..." He grunted back. "My beef died with Bats... Ungh..." Damn that arm was starting to cramp. "The real one... I mean..."

"Yeah...well…I'm not happy about that either. " She pushed down on his windpipe this time, driving an insanely sharp pain (pun kind of intended) through his neck and causing a choking sound to emit from his throat. "But right now, the last thing you told them was to KILL HIM NOW!" she shouted down at him. And in close quarters, her lung capacity was more than sufficient to leave ears aching. "Ring a bell? They are still shooting!" The pressure on his throat let up though. He needed to be able to talk to stop them.

"I won't... call... them off..." He chuckled and coughed as air returned to its proper places. "You have... to the count... of five... One..."

"Why not. You said it was over!" Stella growled down at him, and he could feel the heat from her frustrated body rolling off onto his raw throat.

"Release... me... and I'll... consider... it..." He choked out another laugh. "Two..."

"Not good enough… you've already threatened to back out on not hurting me once it wasn't convenient…." That blade was still uncomfortably close to her neck, but she needed the leverage to keep him in place. "I let you go, you could just as easily tell them to shoot us all. Or blow the whole place up."

"And why... shouldn't I... do what I must... to survive?" he asked, still chuckling. "Convenience has nothing... ungh... to do with it... You broke our agreement... remember? Three..."

"It all depends on your definition of stupid, doesn't it?" She argued back at him, her eyes flashing down at him, and he could see a panic starting to rise as the countdown continued.

"Well..." JJ laughed again. "Seeing as... I'm in... -really- bad pain right now?" He winced through another tormented laugh. "And -you've-... got a blade... at your throat?" He swallowed a bit and winced again. "I think... we can call... this a draw... where intellect is concerned..." He laughed again, and for a moment, she awkwardly joined him halfheartedly.. "Four..."

"If a draw saves my father, I'll take it… if not….." He felt her test the idea of readjusting her weight, but only for a moment. she was lucky to get this hold on him. Any amount of significant adjustment would give him the edge he needed to take any negotiating power away from her. And he could tell by the darting of her blue-green eyes that she was worrying that she really didn't have enough to work with as was. But, she lessened the pressure on his windpipe considerably, her face moving to hover right over him. "In good faith... Just one word, and I'll let up the rest of the way."

"Guhhhh." he took a greedy breath of air, and coughed again when more of the pressure was let off of his throat. "Bats showed 'good faith' in me too once..." JJ responded, still looking her in the eye, though the mirth was gone now. If he'd thought he could make her kill him? He'd have done it. But she was a Bat. Bats didn't kill anyone. "...sometime before he had me incarcerated for attempted grand larceny." He chuckled half-heartedly himself. "So you'll have to forgive me if your show of good faith doesn't inspire much confidence." And his smile was gone now, replaced with a convoluted mixture of expressed emotions. Anger, desperation, depression, remorse, and a number of others, all of them fighting for control over his facial muscles as he pressed the flat of the blade against her neck again. "And for the record... I never wanted any of this... Fi..."

Her lips cut the word off, as if simply preventing it from being said would keep him from following through on his threat. It wasn't a particularly complicated act. She simply pressed her lips to his with a surprising amount of desperation. Or maybe not so surprising. As fast as she'd moved, she caught herself on the sharp tip of the blade though and the tiniest bit of blood slid down the blade slowly, and as she registered that, a little wince vibrated out against his mouth. The gambit worked, though. JJ had not anticipated that kind of move from her, and his eyes widened for the first few moments of the kiss. It was his first, after all. Well, first real kiss anyway. After another moment, or had it been hours? That kiss seemed to play tricks on his mind in the strangest of ways. But after that moment or hour? His eyes sort of faded closed and he actually reciprocated the gesture.

Then, once the initial shock had worn off, he realized that the change of position destabilized her mass in respect to his own too. The hidden blade retracted back into the wrist mount beneath the jacket next, and the kiss continued. The once bladed hand went up and grabbed at the back of her neck, inadvertently taking hold of the tie which held the upper portion of her dress in place, allowing JJ to throw his weight off to the side, effectively pulling her out of the chair. Her grip on his arm was broken and she fell in such a way that she was laying down, face first, almost entirely on top of him. The kiss continued for a little while longer too. JJ was certainly in no hurry to end it. His arms, both of them now free, coiled around her securely before he eventually needed to break for air.

"Um..." He said in a surprisingly normal sounding voice for a change. His eyes still gazing into hers, seeing his confusion reflected in them, and they both blinked quietly. "Um..." Her cheeks were furiously red still, but it was hard to tell if it was because she was excited, embarrassed, or angry…

"I'm not… my family." She breathed out slowly, pushing herself up off of him, but the front of her dress didn't follow, it stayed pooled on his chest like a sleeping cat. The sudden chill air meeting her barely obscured chest, just a thin figure eight of a black bra visible now and Stella squealed a little bit, staring down at the sudden exposure eyes wide. The red was definitely embarrassment now.

"Whoa..." JJ's eyes widened at all the extra skin that was suddenly visible and he did an odd thing next. Well. Odd for what one might've expected from -him- anyway. He turned his head and looked away, his own cheeks taking a bit of a pinkish tone, as he pulled her back down against him. "I, um... I'll, um... fix that... just... hold still..." He moved his hands to try and take the dress's ties, and then spotted the derringer, still held to his palm by the small, steel pole. Sighing, he retracted the device, and set about the task of awkwardly trying to tie the straps behind her neck again.

she let him try for a few moments, then the mortification of the wardrobe malfunction left her incapable of waiting patiently and since he already had lowered her back to his chest, it was easy for her to reach up and start battling with his fingers for control of the ties.

"I know how to do it, its my dress." She mutter out annoyed at him.

"Yes, I know, but I... you know... broke it." JJ replied, still trying to fix it, and now adding a little bit of a semi-playful 'slap battle' to the effort as he tried to keep her hands away and she tried to keep his hands away. Eventually, though, he submitted, moving his hands back to being around her as she fixed the ties, looking a bit thoughtful. That look of absolute concentration in her eyes, even though she couldn't see what she was doing was...endearing. What was wrong with him tonight?

"I know you're not your family..." He said finally as she tightened the knot off, and looked down at him with an uncertainty "And... I... -really- don't know why I'm saying this right now..." He laughed lightly. "But for the next five minutes? I need you to remember that I'm not mine either." He spoke quietly, before producing the derringer with his right hand, and grabbing her hair with his left hand. A sharp tug putting her under his control as he stood back up with her and buried the gun muzzle under her chin, and the only reaction he got from her was a whimper. "CEASE FIRE!" he shouted across the room, the dangerous grin back on his face as he looked around the warehouse, focusing on various shadows and wondering which one Dick was hiding in now. The goons had stopped sending rounds all over the place, though they kept the guns shouldered.

"You have to the count of five, Dick." He said with a chuckle. "Come out and surrender... before my finger gets a little -too- twitchy..." He continued grinning as he looked around. "Nobody pulls a trigger until I say so, got it?" He demanded.

She must have understood what he was saying because she wasn't really fighting with him at this point. His hand was tangled up in her hair, keeping her head back by his left shoulder, and her body covering most of his front as well. Was she shaking because she was scared, or angry, or just...hormonal one way or another? The only sound she gave was a scared little whimper.

"Okay!" Dick's voice sounded off from behind a brick pillar that supported the roof, and he stepped out into view. One of the goons reacted by firing a shot that hit Dick in the shoulder and knocked him down.

"DADDY!" Stella cried out when she saw him fall over. JJ's response was to growl and move the derringer from under her chin, long enough to shoot that goon in the side of the head, before putting it back.

"I SAID NO SHOOTING!" He barked out at the rest of them. "You still alive over there, Dick?" He asked. Dick rose back to his feet and grunted, rolling his shoulder.

"What do you want, JJ?" He asked.

"A cease fire agreement." JJ replied, his grin returning. "We seem to have reached an impasse here, wouldn't you agree?" Dick narrowed his eyes.

"Only until your thugs run out of ammo." He retorted.

"That could take hours." JJ laughed. "I came -very- well prepared this time. But here's the thing, see... I've already -achieved- everything I wanted out of my criminal life. I killed Bruce Wa..."

"Unnnngh..." Bruce moaned from behind him, making JJ's grin fade immediately.

"Kevlar undervest... are you freaking... WHO WEARS KEVLAR ON CHRISTMAS?!" He yelled. "Come on!"

Stella squirmed a little bit. "High profile billionaires with long lists of enemies…. Wouldn't you?"

"No I wouldn't. It makes things -horribly- inconvenient. Ugh! And now, I -can't- finish the job. Just... Leave. Get out. Both of you. Now." When Stella started to move, his hand in her hair effortlessly stopped her from going more than a step away, pulling her to his back again.. "No. Let me clarify. Both of THEM." He stated. "We will finish this later, Bruce..."

"I'm not leaving without my..." Dick was cut off by the cocking of the derringer's hammer.

"You were saying something about leaving?" JJ asked.

"Let's... just go... Dick..." Bruce grunted, clutching what must've been a broken rib. "We can get her back... another time..." Dick moved quickly to support Bruce's staggering body before glaring at JJ again.

"If you hurt her..."

"Yes yes you'll beat me senseless, put me in a body cast for six months, run me over with the batmobile, whatever." JJ cut him off. "Do you hear that sound, Dick? Do you? It's the sound of YOU NOT BEING GONE!" He belted at the false Batman. Stella recoiled from the sudden yelling that close to her ear, leaning away from him, and ignoring the little tingling pressure that put on her hair was it was pulled taut. And it was about that time that the red and blue flashing lights began appearing outside, accompanied by the faint sound of sirens.

"I- I'll...be home before you know it…" The hopeful tone rang a little bit empty though, but she doubted her father would leave if she didn't say something. The two men made their way out of the facility, and JJ maintained his hold on Stella, albeit, lowering the pistol a bit once they'd gotten a bit further, until they had left and the doors were closed again.

"Thank you for not resisting." JJ stated simply, releasing her hair before walking over to Baxter's computer desk, and releasing a long, loud, furious roar as both hands swept the contents clear off of it. "DAMMIT!" he raged. "I had him! He was there! It was over! He was freaking DEAD!" He yelled. "BAXTER!" he shouted the full name that time. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her take a seat in the chair and rub the back of her head a little bit.

"Y-y-yeah, B-boss..." The nerd, still masked climbed out from under the desk he'd been hiding under since Stella first made her move.

"Pack this shit up and take the men home." JJ's voice was dripping with rage.

"B-b-but what..." Baxter started to reply, but moving with speeds almost parallel to Stella's father, JJ's arm shot over the desk, grabbing the nerd's collar and yanking him across the desk, before hoisting him off his feet in front of the angry, white skinned man.

"This, Baxter? This is a PRIME time to shut that pie hole of yours and do EXACTLY as you're freaking told. Do you understand me?" He growled.

"Y-y-yes Boss. Right away Boss. I'm sorry Boss." Baxter seemed like he was just about ready to start wetting himself.

"Good. Now get this shit home. Now." JJ repeated in a low voice before walking over to one of the pillars Dick had used for cover at one point, a good fifty feet away from the area his men were packing up, and sitting down in front of it, lifting his knees, placing his forehead against them, and wrapping his arms around his shins as he sat quietly. He stayed there, even after the equipment, except for the cage, had been moved off somewhere into the back portion of the warehouse, well outside of sight. The only thing remaining in there now, was JJ, Stella, and the chair she was sitting on. The red and blue lights outside had grown more numerous, but the police hadn't breached the doors yet. Perhaps Batman had explained the situation.

And it stayed that quiet for a while longer too, while she seemed to try to figure out what to make of this. He was on the far side of the room, in near fetal position, but he'd made it pretty clear she was not supposed to leave.

"... …. … ... I figured, that if I wanted you to give me the benefit of the doubt… I should start by offering it too…." Her choice carried well over the empty space now, as good at projecting her voice as she was.

"You're free to leave..." JJ's voice mumbled back to her as one arm came undone from around his legs, producing her cell phone, and sliding it across the floor in her direction. Once that was done, his arm returned to his legs and he resumed his state of stillness and silence.

She didn't speak back right away. but he heard footsteps walk toward him, then stop, and the scritch of the phone being picked up from the grit of the floor was obvious. Then a pause, then footsteps again, heading closer to him.

"... then why didn't you just let me go with them?"

"I needed insurance that they would actually leave." JJ replied, his voice still muted. "What difference does it make? Go back home, Stella. To your family." He stated before rising to his feet quickly, his face still etched with rage as he walked off in the same direction that his equipment had been carried off in. "Go. Before I change my mind." He spoke over his shoulder. He saw the conflicted expression on her face this time. She'd been going towards him with one intent but now, seeing him angry, not the wounded animal she'd thought he was, she started to retreat instead.

But before the door shut, the damned woman made herself heard again. "... … Merry Christmas, JJ…" Then the heavy door whined and clicked shut. He stopped before he would've vanished around a corner, turning to look at the door she'd walked through. The blue and red lights continued, and he could faintly hear the ruckus of SWAT officers moving to collect her the moment she stepped out the door.

"Bah... humbug..." He spoke in her general direction, anger fading away when he remembered her kiss. A hand reaching up touch his lips as if to make sure they were still there. He looked down at the fingertips that had touched them, rubbing his thumb over them for a moment as humor began to return to his mind.

"Bah Humbug..." He repeated, more lightly this time and he turned, his smile having returned, and walked off in the same direction his men had gone. Until chuckling turned to laughing, and walking turned to skipping. "You're a mean one... Mister Griiiiiiiiiinch~" His voice, growing fainter in the warehouse when the police finally kicked in the door, sang out until all the was left were the faintest echoes of hysterical laughter.

* * *

 _In case you hadn't gathered? If we'd had a third category we would have picked Comedy. After all, drama is best offset by humor, isn't it? You think this was fun? You should have seen the first draft._

 **It's always funny to me how these stories tend to start on the intended path, and then, as they go, they start developing a life of their own. We see JJ, in here, still trying to get back at Bats by following in his father's footsteps, and we still see how well that path just isn't working for him like he expects it to. The characters have really begun evolving on their own by this point and not even -I- could tell you, for sure, what's coming next. I think I'm just about as excited to find out as you guys are (assuming you are, of course)! As always, feel free to review with any kind of critiques, commentaries, or questions. We love favorites too, of course. Gives us warm fuzzy feelings. You know the kind. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more!**


	6. Five: Tells Of The Trade

"Thanks, boys." Mayor Jim Gordon complimented the police officers as they left Wayne Manor. Once they were gone, the well aged former commissioner made his way back to the family room where the entire group was still assembled, still dressed in their various tuxedos and gowns. "Well... at the very least... everyone's home safe." He offered a weak smile in Stella's direction. She returned it. Both grandfathers had different ways of worrying, but both of them were clearly bothered, and relieved that she was home in their own ways. Bruce's way was a bit more neutral though. He was deep in analytical thought. Which, of course explained why none of them ever got away with anything.

"Agreed." Barbara nodded, clenching a snotty kleenex in her hand. Her leaky mascara had been largely wiped away, but it still left some dusty grey streaks down either side of her face. She made it a point to sit beside Stella, and had an arm around her shoulders.

"He really stepped his game up this time, though." Dick sighed from Stella's opposite side, leaning forward on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees. "Those goons of his... those were no amateurs."

"They did exactly what he wanted them to do." Bruce replied, having shed his tux jacket and shirt, his chest having been examined to reveal a broken rib from the impact of JJ's attempt on his life. "He knows who we are, and he wants me dead." He noted. "But that's just a consolation prize. He wanted to expose me. That's why he set this whole thing up."

"Well." Jim lifted a hand running it over his trademark caterpillar moustache before lifting his eyes to Bruce. "Let's be thankful he botched it then, hm?"

"I'm not so sure we should be thankful." Bruce replied. "If Stella hadn't distracted him?" Bruce gave her a pointed look. She hurriedly looked away from him and reached up a hand to the gauze taped over the small hole in her neck. A reminder of her sloppy screw up. . "He'd have succeeded, and that was only his second attempt. How many of our enemies have tried the same thing over and over again? None of them even came close." He nodded and took a breath. "What happens when he takes another eight months to prepare the third try?" He asked. "I think it's time we stopped underestimating him. He promised me that he would collect what he thinks I owe him."

"Tch." Tim shook his head. "Entitlement issues much?" He frowned.

"Maybe he's right, though. I had thought, at the time, that keeping him away from Gotham was what was best for him. Maybe I should've kept him here." Bruce looked almost remorseful for a few moments.

"No one can blame you for not keeping him yourself, Bruce." Dick shook his head. "I mean, he could've been a freaking saint, he's still The Joker's son. There's just way too much history there, you know?" The thought was nearly bizarre, picturing the green haired boy standing there in between her father and Tim in the family photos… that...was not an image she'd be getting out of her head anytime soon.

"Can you imagine him wearing the Robin suit?" Tim asked with a chuckle. Dick gave him a 'not funny' look. "What? I'm just saying. You went to Nightwing. I went to Red Robin. What would Damien have gone to?"

Kitty laughed a little dryly, her hand buried in her hair as she leaned on the armrest of one of the couches. "Nothing. He would have killed him first."

"Damn straight." Damien nodded, still fiddling around with his phone, not even lifting his gaze. "He could be Bat Boy... or something."

"Bat Boy." Tim laughed. "That's the best you've got?"

"Right, can we get back on topic, please?" Dick asked. Stella squirmed a little bit uncomfortably what exactly was the topic right now?

"Hey!" Tim snapped his fingers, looking excited, then stopped. "No wait, Raven's been taken. Damn." Damien finally looked up at him with an expression that basically dared him to keep at it. "Fine, fine."

"Alright, well... I didn't really get to see much of him." Dick sighed, trying to get the train back on the rails. "Did you two see anything that might be a usable exploit to beat him?" He asked, glancing at Bruce, then at Stella.

"Nothing concrete." Bruce replied. "Not yet anyway. I'm going to check some resources tonight and tomorrow, though." And all eyes turned to Stella. She looked down at the floor quietly. Weaknesses? Plenty.

"He has a bit of a temper. His hacker seemed to take the worst of it." Multiple occasions of sharp yelling rang through her mind. "Top underling, not quite as bad as Harley seemed to take it from his father, but… he doesn't seem to be the most patient with being interrupted…" Her mind kept flipping through the night. Scenes of useful information were getting pushed out though every now and again, with memories of decidedly less important information about how he smelled.

"He's more concerned with Bruce than anything else… He stated several times he had no intention of hurting me...even untied me on the condition I didn't do anything stupid, and didn't even intend to kill Dad-he said anyway. I had him pinned to try to make him stop the goons shooting at him… It didn't work out the way I planned but… while we were threatening each other he looked... conflicted over what he thought he was going to have to do… Then he turned around and shot a goon not five minutes later for disobeying orders without even a single flinch of regret..."

"Maybe he doesn't have problems killing people he views as guilty..." Dick thought out loud.

"Oh perfect." Damien chuckled. "Another Judge Dredd type. Ah em da law!" He mocked the voice from the movie.

"Hey. You've been practicing." Tim noted with a chuckle of his own.

Kitty rolled her blue eyes and stared at her half brother exasperated. "Do you… have Netflix streaming directly to your brain or something?"

He didn't even seem a little bit ashamed of himself for the accusation. "You know what kind of TV we had on Nanda Parbat?" Damien asked her.

"Nothing worth watching?" Kitty suggested halfheartedly.

"TV?" Bruce asked, looking confused as he sorted through his memories. "I don't remember any TVs there..."

"EXACTLY!" Damien replied, pointing his phone at Bruce, and then Kitty to emphasize his point.

With all the patience of a father with a long history of ridiculous conversations under his belt, Bruce moved right along and nodded at his grand daughter to continue. "Right, anyway. Go on, Stella."

Stella was quiet for a little bit longer, still trying to put it all together. Trained in observation was all well and good, but that didn't make it easy to put together like this. She should be able to do it faster… "I...noticed that he is positively meticulous… He didn't even think twice about taking off his jacket to check it for a colour scheme."

"A colour scheme?" Selina interjected, with an eyebrow quirk.

"Yeah...we were making small talk and he asked about kitchen colour schemes..I suggested black stainless steel… and keeping the purple he liked, and adding green." And taking off his shirt to test the colour combination and demanding a black from Baxter.

"Where'd they get the green?" Kitty asked curiously and Stella shrugged slowly, a bit sheepishly, trying to make it not a big deal at all.

"His shirt? Bigger concerns, you understand."

Kitty scoffed a bit, twirling a piece of her long jet black hair around her finger. "Says you."

"Anyway…. He's...careful, obsessive, but impulsive. I was never meant to leave the manor. The intent was to just get you to trade spots with me, then he'd have what he wanted. Baxter kept pointing out where he went off script… But, like I said, he's meticulous and detail oriented… but also somehow… spontaneous?" She looked up at everyone, running her hand through her hair agitated a little bit. Maybe because she was remembering her own bout of spontaneity with its unforeseen results.

"Minus the impulsive part, he sounds a lot like you." Tim nodded at Bruce.

"I can be impulsive if I want to be." Bruce replied.

"I've never seen it." Tim scoffed.

"Oh, I have." Selina smirked from her seat beside Bruce.

"Annnd that's not awkward…" Kitty groaned, covering her eyes.

"Right..." Tim cleared his throat. "Moving on... You said he was talking Kitchen colors? Did he tell you where the kitchen was?" He asked. "Or give any clues? I mean, guys don't build kitchens unless they plan on sticking around, right?"

"Never built one myself." Dick replied with a chuckle.

"Just that they hadn't had a chance to put in a kitchen yet. After you two left, he ordered everyone to pack up and move back to their actual base… he offered to order in takeout until then…This was just a temporary place though."

"We can actually use that." Dick noted. "We'll wait until the police clear out, and see if we can't track them back to their base. I'll take Tim and Kitty, the three of us should be able to track them pretty quickly, and be able to handle any resistance that shows up. We can keep Damien available for Backup, Babs can cover the coms..."

"I'll hurry up the police." Jim nodded and turned, stepping out of the room.

"I'll..." Bruce started.

"Rest up." Dick pointed at him. "You have broken ribs. If you -need- to do something? Check on those resources you were talking about." Bruce chuckled.

"Since when did you start giving the orders around here?"

"Since you got older, crankier, more stubborn, and then injured." Dick replied, glancing over at Selina.

"Don't worry, Dick. I won't let him out of my sight." She responded to the unspoken assignment.

"Good, then you can -both- stay away from JJ tonight." Dick made sure to clarify, since Selina's wording was less than solid. "As for you, Stella..."

"You should chase off your boyfriend. Or is he gay? Did you girls ever settle on that?" Damien asked, grinning down at his phone. Stella gave him the strangest look. Who was he talking about? She didn't have a boyfriend, and if she did, he certainly wouldn't be questionably gay. What the hell was Damien on about?

"Boyfriend? You mean Artsie?" Tim asked, looking over at the phone. Artsie was here? Why would… Oh… the party! He was going to come for the party, but the party had been derailed. Surely he'd seen that on the news already, right? Had he missed it? Or was he here for another reason. Maybe he had a costume detail he wanted to show her? Didn't matter now, she was up on her feet and heading toward the front door. "Whoa! He drives a Bugatti! We don't even have one of those..."

Kitty peered over the edge of the armrest, leaning across the space between the two couches.

"Because it's a gas guzzling waste of a showboat." Bruce grumbled, before standing up with a wince and a hand on his ribs. "Stella. I need to talk to you. Privately." He stated, straightforward as usual. That didn't stop the sinking feeling in her stomach though. Maybe for some people talks with your grandparents didn't induce such anxiety. But their grandfather probably wasn't the Mayor... And they definitely weren't Batman. "So, once you've met with your costume designer? Meet me in the cave." He instructed simply, before walking off towards his study. Totally not intimidating at all.

Kitty protested, sitting upright suddenly. "Costume designer? Why does she need her own costume designer?" Then the reality clicked in place "Oh, for her shows, not for her. Got it." The miniature crisis was averted, and Stella rolled her eyes a bit as she slipped off toward the front hall. She grabbed a brown furry throw from a chair on her way out, wrapping it over her shoulders. It was December, late at night now, and she didn't want to risk her body feeling any more traumatized. She answered the door before he even knocked, smiling at him in some bizarre mix of confident and sheepish all at the same time.

"Sorry the party got cut short, Artsie…"

"Oh! Stella! Um, hi!" Artsie replied, smiling and looking as though he were just now relaxing after a very long day. He was dressed in a very nice tuxedo, one that easily rivaled Bruce's in terms of quality, and was exceptionally well fitted to him. His long, black hair, normally left to hang freely, was slicked back and pulled into a low, neat ponytail. In the months she'd known him? She had never seen him look anything even close to this before. It was kind of…charming. Not, usually a word associated with the reclusive and usually grumpy Artist. "Oh, right, yeah... I wasn't, you know, really worried about the party. You know, after the media said you'd been captured by a psychopathic clown, I was... you know... slightly more concerned about you at that juncture." He chuckled. "You're alright, though?" He lowered himself a bit and looked at the bandage on her neck, quirking an eyebrow. "You... cut yourself... shaving?" He asked.

"Yes…" She looked shamed for a moment. "It's why I can't get a boyfriend. I have this horrible manbeard." She said with the best deadpan voice she could manage. It didn't last for very long though, and she tilted her head back laughing, lifting a hand up to touch the still tender puncture wound, drawing it away quickly.

"No, but seriously, it was just a little collateral damage. Guess you shouldn't move too fast when the madman has a bladey thing at your neck. Just my luck, right? Caught myself on the one sharp bit." Stella shrugged it off before looking at him her eyes soft, touched by his concern.

"I didn't think you were worried about the party. I just was looking for something more clever to say than Hi, I'm sorry you got all dressed up for nothing...Not, that you don't look great..but um… Yeah…. tonight didn't exactly work out as planned….You could have called, you know…." But her eyes flicked over to the slick purple bugatti with big wide retro swoops in white. That was a really nice car, where had he gotten that? Such a perfect colour. Only one thing she even thought about changing. But really… she had no idea he had that kind of money lying around. He certainly didn't flaunt it like others did…

"Well, after I heard, I may have decided to try and see if I could find you." He chuckled, flashing a bit of a sheepish smile himself. She blinked in sudden surprise. He'd gone… looking for her? With no idea where to begin, knowing she was held captive by the mad son of the Joker? Was he stupid… or brave…. or just as strange as he seemed? "So, I was already out and about when I heard you'd been found. And... also... I wanted to give you this." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small folded piece of paper, handing it to her.

"Is it the Ariel sketch you've been hiding from me? And I know you've been hiding it. Why else haven't I seen it yet. I know Marianne is difficult but she's not that imp-" She looked at him pointedly as she looked down at what she was unfolding.

 _Dance Coupon:_

 _Good for One Free Waltz_

 _(That Doesn't Suck As Bad As Your Uncle's)_

Stella stared at it for a moment then put a hand up to her mouth for a second and laughed. She was trying to be lady like about it, but it didn't work out that well. She just laughed more once she thought about how ridiculous she looked trying not to.

"Well, I'm sure I can arrange to cash this in sometime...You really didn't have to though. I didn't have to dance this year… Not… exactly an avoidance technique I recommend though…" She ran a hand back through her red hair still completely loose and desperately trying to flail everywhere. Like she felt her words were doing now.

"No, I do have to." Artsie replied with a hint of a smile playing on the edge of his normally stoic facial features. "I made a promise, and I always keep my promises." He nodded.

"You still could have given this to me after the school break." She hadn't meant ot say that, why did she say that? Artsie hesitated for a moment, and the hint of a smile faded away as he looked her over and then looked a little embarrassed again.

"Oh, yeah, you're probably right. Poor timing, I'm sure. You've been through a lot tonight and all. I'll um... I'll just go, and let you rest up." He nodded and thumbed over his shoulder at his car.

"No, no, I'm not bothered, I was just saying..you didn't have to go out of your way to give it to me tonight." She leaned one shoulder on the obnoxiously tall doorframe and looked at him, a little bit amused at how suddenly embarrassed he was. "You know...the only promise you made was to show up before the speeches were over...since the speeches were interrupted, technically, you still fulfilled that promise… So...please don't feel bad, okay? "

"Oh no, it's not that, I just... I don't get out very often... so I'm never sure about timing and things..." He replied. "Practicing all that stitchwork and makeup art has it's, you know, drawbacks."

Stella laughed at him, especially chipperly for a recently returned kidnappee. "Don't I know it. I lost nearly all my friends in high school because I was too busy with my needy hobbies to keep up the social norm."

Then Dick walked up behind her and glanced over her shoulder at Artsie. She almost thwapped her father for the interruption as she watched his eyes lift from hers to her father's.

"Sorry, Daddy, this is Artsie, the costume designer I rave about when you ask how the drama thing is going. Artsie, this is my father. Sorry, he's not usually this… glarey… But um...rough night…" She looked at him a little apologetically.

"Dick Grayson." Artsie nodded and smiled lightly. "I remember your face from the papers. It's an honor to meet you, Sir." Dick leaned around Stella's side to shake Artsie's hand, a hint of a smile on his face.

"The honor is mine. You're a favorite topic of Stella's lately." Dick replied.

"What can I say? Talent is good conversation." She defended herself with a shrug and a little awkward giggle. Her father continued around her though.

"Nice to finally put a face to the name. Artsie is an interesting name, by the way, is that short for something?"

"Oh! Yes. It's what the drama club folks started calling me, short for The Artist." He chuckled. "My real name is Jack."

"Yeah, only I like calling him Artsie better because it has character and just makes everything feel more awesome…" Stella interjected and smiled affectionately between the both of them.

"Well, Jack, would you like to come in and join us? We were just having some tea and settling down. Normally, I'm sure, it'd seem strange to ask after everything that's happened tonight, but Stella just, kinda, lit up a little when she heard you were here, so..." She caught a mischievous little glint in her father's eye and she shot him a quick little glower. _Why does everyone keep saying things like this?_

"Oh, no Sir. I couldn't intrude tonight." Artsie replied with a nod and a smile. "I just, I promised to meet her at the dinner, and then everything... I just, you know, wanted to check and make sure she was okay." He nodded.

"Very thoughtful of you." Dick replied. "Well, I'll leave you two to your farewells then. Don't hang around outside too long, Stella. You'll catch cold." He chuckled and bent down to place a kiss on top of her head. "Pleasure meeting you, Jack. Take care." He waved and then headed back into the house.

She watched her father slink back into the house. That was possibly the least subtle she had ever seen him be. Then she looked back at Artsie apologetically. She intended to apologize for her father's interruption, but what came out was… not what she really meant at all. "... Its impossible to catch a cold in this blanket. It's like somebody turned warm fuzzy feelings and a fireplace into furry softness then wove it all together and slapped a price tag on it. Its my favorite blanket in the whole house…Here, feel it…"

She stuck out her well covered arm to prove her point. Artsie did as he was bidden and touched the blanket, before nodding and then using both hands to feel it as though critiquing it. He looked thoughtful.

"Feels like... acrylic and cotton... probably a 60-40 blend..." He noted, then squinted a bit, not looking at the blanket, but using his fingers instead. "Maaaaybe 65-35." He corrected himself, looking it over, and then back up at her. "I could make you another one if you like." He nodded, still feeling aspects of the blanket. "Craftsmanship is nice, but nothing special. What's your favorite color again? Purple, right?" He asked, looking as though he was testing his own memory.

"Yes but..." That was pretty obvious considering it was the colour of her tote bag, her clipboard, and the pens and sticky notes she used to leave him notes on the board outside the makeup room to avoid bothering him at work. (He got a little testy when he was bothered in the middle of serious work, but who didn't?) Stella looked at him a little oddly though once she processed he was trying to fish for what to make her. It concerned her honestly. "You… do know I wasn't asking you to make me one right? I just wanted to share how awesome this was…" She looked down at his hand still testing the fabric. _Well, no one can say he isn't dedicated…_

"Oh I know. You make a regular habit of not asking for things you may want or need, unless it's directly related to drama club." He noted, releasing the blanket. "It was an offer." He smiled and breathed out a light chuckle. "You can, of course, feel free to decline. I think you and I have worked together long enough that social 'niceties' are a little obsolete." He nodded, then glanced up at the door again.

"I guess if you feel like it you can, I mean, I won't turn it down. But don't stress yourself out over it, okay? I already ask you to do so much for the shows" She argued back at him, pointing a chastising finger at him.

"Nonsense. Making costumes for the shows is more of a hobby than a chore anyway." He replied dismissively with a smile and a gesture of his hand. He then sighed and nodded, glancing back at his car before returning his gaze to her. "Anyway. I'd better let you get back inside to your family. Text me sometime, if you feel like collecting on that coupon." He smiled, looking her over again for a moment before flashing another somewhat awkward smile and then backing away a few steps with a quiet chuckle and a wave. "Goodnight, Stella. I'm really glad you're alright."

She smiled a bit fondly as she watched her friend slide back toward his all too classy car she couldn't wait to gush about when she had the energy and mental capacity to do so. "Thank you... So am I... I'll see you after new years, okay? Have a good night, Artsie!" she leaned against the door frame until he was safely down the long drive, then she slunk back down toward the cave. As she walked, a sigh of relief slunk out. He wasn't upset, or put out, or wounded about the missed opportunity. Good.

By the time Stella had arrived in the cave, only her mother and Bruce were still there. Everyone else had already suited up and left. Her mother sat at The Oracle station, where thirty different monitors arranged in a concave rectangle allowed her to watch the action from a variety of different positions, as well as tap into cctv cameras positioned around Gotham. A series of three monitors below that array were directly attached to the computer itself, providing live feeds from a number of different sources, including police, fire, and emergency dispatch. Judging from the looks of things, the family hadn't arrived to begin tracking yet, Barbara was merely doing some pre-emptive scouting, ensuring the area was clear, as well as scanning through footage for clues.

On the other side of the cave, was a much older computer system, sitting not far away from a much newer one, recently installed to replace the one that JJ had fried months ago. Bruce was also going through backdated footage, though the footage -he- was going through was the recordings from the cameras that Dick had put into place before revealing himself in the warehouse.

"Your costume designer seemed particularly pleased to see that you were well." He commented before she'd even had time to announce her presence. Even in his old age, sneaking up on Bruce Wayne was a feat that laid right next to beating Superman in a staring contest in the list of 'impossible things'. That was just something she'd gotten used to growing up though. She laughed a little bit under her breath.

She shuffled her feet a little bit awkwardly. This again? "Well, he has mentioned a few times that if he had to work with any of the other idiots we have in the group he'd probably get suspended from the school. Besides, we had plans to make fun of the guests together. Who doesn't love a good roast?" Stella dismissed it casually. Their relationship just wasn't that way, and it was a little frustrating that they kept coming back to this. Just her costume designer who in the last 7 months hadn't made a single pass at any person in the entire department full of attractive people in various stages of undress. He'd even shut down not one, not two, but all three of the bombshell lead types. He was either gay, or completely asexual, was the general consensus.

"Do you like him?" Bruce asked. It was always funny, how he could be both blunt as a wrecking ball, and sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, all in the same sentence. He turned away from the monitors he'd been watching, swiveling the chair to face her, and motioning towards another chair close by.

Stella quirked an eyebrow as she took the seat, hearing it squeak a little bit. It was the back up chair after all. "Of course I do. He's a breath of fresh air when I'm surrounded by backstabbers and social climbers. I would not have invited him here if I didn't…"

"Let me be clear about something." Bruce nodded, locking his gaze on hers. "I trust you, Stella. You've been raised to make sound decisions, to observe your surroundings and see them for what they are, and you've been trained to defend yourself from just about everything short of a league assassin." He added. "The only reason I'm telling you this, is so that we're both on the same page as far as why I'm asking about your relationship with Jack, or Artsie, or whoever he is." He smiled somewhat. "He seems like a fairly nice guy, a little on the aloof side, not that anyone in this family has room to complain about that. He clearly cares about you..." He nodded.

"Maybe. I've also been working with him for almost a year now and I've seen him show zero interest anyone that way. He's actually shot down every single pass that's ever been made at him, expressed nothing but disinterest. I don't think he even has relationships on his radar. He's had plenty of time to express it. Besides, I don't think of him that way." Stella replied thoughtfully. She'd had this conversation several times, with herself and with her friends.

"Mmm. Well. Farbeit from my area of expertise to instruct you on the ins and outs of reading a male's romantic intentions." He chuckled lightly, wincing a bit since the chuckle jostled his ribs a bit. He was mocking her, wasn't he? Stella crinkled her nose, huffing at him. "And talking about Jack isn't the real reason I called you down here in the first place. This is..."

"Well, that's good…." He turned the monitor to reveal an angled down view of her holding JJ in that beautiful strangulation hold and she started to blush. There was no audio, though, just picture. It really had been a good hold. Minus the part where it hadn't worked. She couldn't bully him into making the shooting stop. But more importantly, where did this footage come from? Once again, he read her mind on several points.

"Your father planted cameras before making his presence known. Since we have so very little intelligence on JJ and how he operates, he thought it might be a good way to discern a little more about him and his methods." Bruce nodded. She started to squirm in the chair. "And to answer your next question? Or the one you might silently panic over without asking? No. No one else has seen this footage yet."

Stella didn't remember holding her breath, but she definitely felt it coming out shaky and unstable. Good. Her mother was right over there after all. She squirmed a little bit. "Good I… um...for obvious reasons… would really prefer if my parents didn't see that… like… um…" She spun a finger out to the side a few times… "...ever…?"

"It isn't your... distraction technique that interests me." Bruce noted, fast forwarding past the kiss and subsequent wardrobe malfunction, that had her mortified, to the part where JJ had pulled her out of the chair, landing them both on the floor with her on top of him. The kiss ended, but the two remained in that position for several minutes before JJ stood up and began using her as a human shield. He paused the recording again. "This, however, does." He pointed at the screen. "His hold on you here is flimsy and weak. You could easily have reversed this. But you didn't." He swiveled in the chair to face her again. "What did he say to you?"

Somehow she was grateful that it wasn't the distraction he wanted to talk about talking about a professional shortcoming was muuuuch easier. "I don't think what he said was really that important... I'd tried pressuring him into stopping the goons, and all it got me was a stalemate. So, I figured if I cooperated a little bit it might work. Like you said, the hold was flimsy. If it hadn't worked, I could have just turned it around. It was a tactic change..."

"I find it difficult to believe that you would adopt a strategy that involved killing a man in cold blood before risking your father's stability at seeing JJ with a loaded gun aimed at his daughter's chin." Bruce replied frankly.

Stella pouted at him. "I had no idea he was going to shoot his own goon. I honestly wasn't sure exactly what his plan was. All I know is that he…" She paused, to try to find the right words. Telling her paranoid grandfather that she'd gone along with it because the madman with the blush had told her to trust that he wasn't his family for the next five minutes was not going to go over well. How to word this so he didn't doubt her sanity and ability to make good choices. "... wasn't responding to my aggression. My primary concern at that moment was to get the shooting to stop. Dad's luck wouldn't hold out forever, and you saw the rounds they were using. His mental stability was probably a little bit more bulletproof than Kevlar at that caliber… and…"

Well she had to say something about this…. She frowned a little bit thoughtfully before finishing. "Like I said…. he didn't really want to hurt me. I figured...even if that changed, he'd have some hesitation again and that would be enough for me to defend. In the meantime… It worked. He got the upperhand on his personal situation, and the goons stopped shooting. i mean, there was that awkward bit in the middle but…. all in all… it wasn't exactly bad the way everything panned out…" She paused for a moment.

"Except for the goon that didn't follow orders. That was bad, I suppose…" She trailed off a bit. Bruce lowered his gaze for a moment, as if deciding on something, and then nodding quietly.

"You already know the story about what Joker did to your mother, much to my dismay." He took a breath and sighed, another pained wince coming from his broken rib. "Did anyone ever tell you what Joker did to a woman named Harleen Quinzel?" He asked.

Stella sat up very straight and her expression fell into a cold neutral he should have been proud of. Of course, she was also highly offended, and that didn't help. "There is a FAR cry, Grandfather, from allowing something to happen briefly in an attempt to solve a problem, and allowing yourself to be brainwashed into pitying a psychopathic madman, and what's more, joining him in crime."

 _What had happened to "I trust you to make good decisions"? What happened to "this isn't about that"? Now he was jumping to comparing me to Harley Quinn? Any psychology student or enthusiast worth their salt has heard the horror story of Dr. Quinzel who fell victim to her own patient. and joined him as the First Lady of Crazy Town. It is the cautionary tale every shrink should know before getting out into the real world._

He cut her off before she could get herself too worked up. "I wasn't comparing you to her. Harleen Quinzel was an unstable woman before The Joker got his hands on her, you're not. The two of you aren't even remotely similar." He clarified. "The only reason that I even bring it up, is because of the fact that JJ demonstrated a clear difference in how he responds to you, as opposed to how he responds to anyone else." Bruce noted. "I don't know what that means, if it means anything at all, but I'm going to do my best to find out. In the meantime? Watch this." He played the video forward again, after everyone had left. "Watch how angry he is." He pointed out. "He throws everything, all of that expensive equipment, off the table without a moment's hesitation, drags Bax, whoever he is, across the counter and judging from his gestures? It looks like he threatened everyone in that room." He nodded again before looking back at Stella. "... Except you. You were the only one in that building tonight that was never in any danger, and whatever else that means? It certainly means that you need to be careful around JJ." He stated.

 _Well, I had just kissed him and he got a lovely view of my almost naked chest, that might have had something to do with it…_ She took a breath to start to argue something that would hopefully make a little bit more sense than the argument running through her head which would… probably not go over well.

"And before you take offense again?" He cut himself off, lifting a hand defensively. "You're cautious around most everyone, I know. You need to be -more- careful. Those thugs? Even after watching one of their own be shot in cold blood? Were fiercely loyal to JJ. That's a powerful thing, and it takes a great deal of charisma to pull something like that off. I've only ever seen someone inspire -that- kind of loyalty in their goons a handful of times before, and of those? Eighty percent were through fear, not charm. Yet, only Bax seems to be fearful of JJ here. The others simply follow his orders." He pointed out how the troops just blindly obeyed whatever JJ had told them to do.

"I am not doubting your capabilities, Stella. It's important that you know that. I'm concerned that, as good as you are? He might just be better still."

Stella frowned quietly at him. she was listening to his assertions, but as usual, it felt like some of his thoughts were more clear in his mind than they were to her. Like she was missing a tiny bit of the information. "So, you're logic is that since he didn't get angry at me...I should be more concerned?" She lifted a finger questioningly. "I'm not really following why that puts me in more danger. Maybe he doesn't like to hurt women, knowing what his mother went through?"

"Entirely possible." Bruce nodded. "In fact, given that this whole thing started as a rage outburst when I compared him to his father? I'd say it's highly likely. But then that makes him more dangerous, because it proves that he isn't his father's brand of crazy." He sighed. "And it also gives you less reason to dislike him." He rose from his seat, popping the disc with the recordings on it from the playback device and offering it to her. She snatched it quicker than she meant to.

"The only copy. Do with it as you will." She was sorely tempted to just break it right there. His hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up at him, relaxing a little bit when she saw the reassuring smile on his face. A rare expression for him. "I hope you realize that I'm not judging you, or short changing you, or second guessing anything." He sighed, then leaned down and placed a -very rare- sign of affection in the form of a light kiss on her crown. "I'm just worried. And I'm a crippled old man who's seen the worst this city has to offer. I have a right to be."

"I know, Grandpa…I'm trying not to take it personally…" She looked up at him with thinly veiled exasperation. But it was hard to be frustrated at him when she knew he was only concerned for her safety.

"I promise I'll be more careful around him, okay? And I won't um… put myself in awkward situations like that anymore…" _No matter how eas- convenient- it is._

* * *

 **Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Half of our writing team here at Darqstorm is now working two jobs, while the other is in the process of moving. We'll keep posting new chapters as we finish them, and with a little luck and some elbow grease? We'll still be able to put one chapter out a week. I want to personally thank each and every one of you for bearing with us, and continuing to read along, but since that'd be creepy and all? I'll settle for just thanking you in this footnote. XD**

 _We also would like to thank the encouragement we received in our review. It totally made our day, to see we had a review! At least we didn't leave you on the cliffhanger! Keep sending us feedback! Would you like to see more internal looks at the characters? Slice of Life Moments? Want to see more of Artsie, and this drama department? (Additional Disclaimer- Prospero, Ariel, and any other future references to the Tempest, aren't owned by us either) Or maybe you'd like to meet the other new generation heroes we have in the wings? All future possibilities! Thanks!_


	7. Six: Well Suited

"Hey, Stella, are you sure you should be out in public?" The coppery ponytail flipped around quickly to turn and glower at the hotshot Jeffrey. the padded headset she was pulling on was almost more comfortable than the Bat Ears.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, isn't being kidnapped supposed to be traumatizing or something?" Stella rolled her eyes at him and started walking through the auditorium seats toward the stage. The heavy red velvet curtains were still closed and they needed to be opened. Unfortunately, Jeffrey's bigmouth had opened the floodgates of questions, all of them overlapping each other.

"Did they have a gun on you? What k-" Nicholas kicked in.

"I heard he threatened-" Marianne started

"How white is he-?" Anna piped in as she stepped up to wrap her arm in Jeffrey's.

"I heard his face is stuck in a permanent grin like his father's-" Jennifer whispered horrified.

"Did he make you-" Liam snuck in verbally while he stepped up behind her like he was somehow being comforting as close as he was trying to be. Please. She got to the crack in the curtain she turned around suddenly, lifting her solid purple clipboard for emphasis on her statement.

"ENOUGH!" She shouted as she started stomping up the stairs up to the stage itself, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temples. "As fascinating as your morbid curiosity is, and as hard as this may be to believe, I DO NOT want to talk about what happened over my holiday!" Now that she'd gotten her point across, she turned back around and pulled the curtain aside. The heavy fluttering sound of the fabric revealed what appeared, at first, to be a very odd looking tree. A very ugly tree, twisted and knotted.

"One of the prop guys must've left..." Liam started after Stella, running a hand through his short cropped black hair and making a face at the prop. He'd barely begun moving, though, before the tree moved as well, twisting, almost as though it was unraveling itself, turning to face the entire troupe, the branches allowing a few dead leaves and twigs to fall to the ground as they unwrapped and became arm-like appendages, and finally, there was a face with glowing red eyes that snarled at all them, before belting out a completely inhuman roar that almost seemed to come from the auditorium walls itself.

Liam froze in his tracks and jumped back a step. Jeffrey made some kind of grunting/yelling sound and turned to run, but tripped over one of the steps in the aisle, falling to a prone position instead. Anna, who'd been clinging to his arm, started to fall with him, but caught herself and stepped on Jeffrey's back to get past him, bolting for the door. Jennifer simply froze in place, eyes wide, face pale, stiff as a board. Nicholas jumped behind a row of seats and crouched down to hide. There was a monster loose in the auditorium.

Stella didn't even look phased though, and merely grinned in response. When you'd fought the villains she had, when you'd gone toe to toe with twisted aliens, mythological creatures, and mutant genetic experiments? Everything else paled by comparison. (Except !Clowns!)

Stella stepped forwards, furrowing her eyebrows for a moment and tilting her head to the side. She knew exactly who it was, and honestly, she was extremely proud of him for the scare fest.

"How'd you get the eyes to glow?" She asked.

"Oh, that was easy, check it." Artsie's voice replaced the roar, still echoing through the auditorium. "One moment..." His voice, after a moment, people would realize, was coming through the speakers mounted up and down the walls, typically used for ambient sounds and musical accompaniments. He reached up and opened his mouth, removing the bottom piece of the fake teeth. "I managed to get one of those tiny little microphones, and worked it into the bottom mouthpiece." He looked around the room, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Apparently, it works well." He looked for a place to put the mouthpiece for a few seconds before turning his head and just hanging it on one of the limbs sticking off of the costume. "But you asked about the eyes. They're special contacts I found online, they use some sort of micro-prism based technology to reflect only one color of light. In this case, red. I can get other colors too. I was actually considering some green ones for the fairy costume..."

"Artsie! You asshole! I damn near pissed myself over that one!" Liam growled out after the realization that it wasn't really a monster, and they weren't really all going to die, or be eaten, or whatever rampaging tree monsters did to people these days.

"Geez, Stella, that didn't phase you at all?" Nicholas peeked up over the edge of the row of auditorium seats for a moment, before rising back to his feet properly.

She laughed quietly. "Nah, I've seen worse."

"Aren't you afraid of anything?" Jennifer sobbed out, her voice a little cracked, as her body unfroze, and she, instead went a little weak-kneed, folding down a seat and then sitting in it, trying her best to compose herself

"Of course I am. Everyone has something that spooks them. " Stella shrugged in response

"So what is it…" Nicholas asked, before looking around again. "And where'd Anna go?"

"She probably ran to campus security." Jeffrey groaned from his position, still prone on the floor. "Liam, can you give me a hand here? Kinda wanna kick Artsie's ass right now." The costumer merely rolled his eyes and let a bit of a scoffing laugh escape his mouth. It wasn't a serious threat to him anymore, she knew that. Liam and Jeffrey threatened his life, limbs, or well being at least twice a month. Liam helped Jeffrey back to his feet but then turned back to Stella.

"I think I want to know what you're scared of as well. I bet you're adorable when you're freaked out." He chuckled. Stella shook her head quietly.

Stella laughed. "I don't believe in spreading my weaknesses around. Tell you what though, you figure it out? I'll give you a prize."

Two weeks later, it was still the main topic of conversation other than themselves. Every day there was at least one scare attempt. Marianne had put fake blood inside her desk drawers so it oozed out the sides. She'd laughed and made her clean them all out. Jennifer had brought in a small snake from a pet store and offered it to her expecting her to shy away. Stella had draped it over her neck like a necklace and worn it through the rest of rehearsal. That had gotten a lot of attention from the boys.

Anna had managed to put a rubber tarantula in her locker, and when that didn't work, got a stuffed one from the entomology department and tried with that three days later. The results weren't that different, just a little bit more caution before she busted out laughing once she poked it calmly with a pen a few times to ensure it was dead.

The guys hadn't fared much better. Liam's attempt consisted of a pop up skeleton, borrowed from the biology lab (the plastic one used for illustrating skeletal structure), and a recorded, high pitched scream. Unfortunately for Liam, Artsie found it first, and returned the favor by placing it in his dressing room, with some custom special effects added. The highly feminine scream was the first time since he'd been there, where Artsie hadn't threatened to skin someone with rusty butterknife for being loud in his workshop (which was directly attached to the dressing room for costuming purposes. Liam scrambled backwards out of the dressing room and fell on his backside, wearing a pair of obnoxious plaid boxers and a white muscle shirt.

While everyone was laughing about Liam's failure, Jeffrey decided to go a different route and released about thirty rats, all of which scampered across the stage while Stella was arguing with Marianne about the flying scene, Jeffrey's fail was, arguably, worse than Liam's, as it resulted in the auditorium being locked down for two days while campus hired pest control to remove the rats. Rumor had it that Jeffrey's father was charged for the service, and judging by the moping that Jeffrey did for the next several days, there was likely some truth to that. Both Jeffrey and Liam had given their best and were beaten horrendously, and embarrassingly, for sure. But none would be anywhere near as memorable as Nicholas' attempt.

Nicholas got the brilliant idea to try and 'cheat' by using a shock factor. So, one day, before Stella had arrived, Nicholas snuck into the auditorium wearing all black. He put a ski mask on and hid inside Stella's office, just behind the door, and waited until she came to get to work. He jumped out with a water gun, and screamed 'give me all your money!'. The result? Well. He spent the night in the ER getting his broken nose set, and a cast on his fractured wrist. No one had witnessed the attempt, but since everyone saw Stella filling out a police report and Nicholas being hauled off to the hospital in an ambulance? The story was kind of self explaining.

It hadn't been his brightest moment. he wasn't out too long but other than a few apologetic glances, she didn't feel like she had anything else to apologize for. However this was getting out of hand. So far, they'd already had to return a 'borrowed' tarantula, shut down for fumigation, and then the hotshot had been sent to the ER, and she didn't like the idea of this going any further. So this afternoon as everyone filtered into the auditorium, she cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.

"Alright, losers, listen up. " she didn't need to shout, she'd had the techy Derek hook up the mic on her headset right to the main speakers.

" This Scare Stella game has gotten a little but out of hand. Sooo... I'm going to put an end to it. Today, is the last day for any attempts to win the prize okay? Lest something worse happen than I break Nicholas nose, or we have to fumigate the building again because someone thinks it's a good idea to let vermin loose. " she looked around at the gathered techies and actors. The space case of a director was sitting on the front row, watching everything amused. This had been her mess to start, it had to be her mess to finish.

"Well, good." Liam nodded with a cocky smile. "I agree things have gotten ridiculous, but there's still one of us, in particular, who hasn't given an effort yet." His gaze shifted off to the side where Artsie sat, a fair way away from everyone else, only half paying attention, as he was sketching in the notebook he kept with him when he was required to be outside of his workshop for any reason. "The rest of us have all failed gloriously..."

"Some more than others." Jeffrey added with a snicker that ended shortly after Liam shot him a death glare.

"I'm curious to see how the master costumer would fare." Liam continued. Artsie didn't even look up from his notebook, still sketching away as the slightest hint of a smirk appeared on his face.

"Well, for starters, Liam, I'd make sure to scare the right person." He replied, earning a hushed laugh from a few others in attendance.

"Didnt he technically try first? " Jennifer piped up when the laughter started to fade though. Stella laughed.

" Technically, he wasn't trying to scare me. He was showing off. Anyone can try as many times as they like, but only for the rest of today... " She looked pointedly at everyone. "And nobody has to try if they don't want to."

"Yeah, no, The Caliban costume was, I'll admit, very cool." Liam chuckled. "But that doesn't count. I want to see him try. I'm calling you out, Artsie. You're up to bat." He pointed at the black haired costumer, who finally looked up and sighed.

"It wouldn't even be a -challenge- for me." He replied in protest. "I'm a psychology major, and you idiots have already eliminated all of the most likely possibilities, except for one."

"Well then you should have very little trouble proving it." Liam replied.

"Yeeeah, I'm kinda curious now too." Jeffrey chimed in. "You think you could one shot it, right here, right now?"

"Ten minutes of prep." Artsie replied with a smirk and a nod. "Which is why I'm not going to do it. You guys? You're accepting a challenge. Solving puzzles and mysteries is fun. Scaring someone just to prove you can do it? That's childish." He replied.

"I will bet you a hundred bucks you can't do it." Liam replied.

"I'll throw in a hundred too. You might be a wizard with fabric and makeup? But that girl aint scared of nothing." Jeffrey added, pointing at Stella.

"I already told you. I am scared of something. " she really shouldn't encourage this, she knew it. But she couldn't help but correct them.

Marianne giggled a little bit." Oh, I don't think he can do it. He doesn't want to look bad... " Considering she was scripted to play Ariel, maybe she shouldn't be antagonizing the costume designer.

Anna grinned too, but hers was a bit pointed. " I think you're right. Not challenging enough he says. Heh."

Stella wrinkled her nose at them all and clicked her pen loudly into her mic until it quieted the widespread murmurs.

"Okay, enough! Leave him alone. Onto business. Marianne, we have to get you started on your flying routines. Jennifer, you're one of the faeries during the Ceres number, remember, I need you to get everything set up to run through the choreography on that with everyone. Jeff, if you will stop feeling Anna up, and save it for the show, I'd really like you two to get ready to run through your first scene again, and... Kassie, did you have anything to add? "

The blonde director stood up dramatically, her arms folded and her hands tucked inside her oversized aqua bell sleeves like she was some kind of statue and she turned around to beam at everyone. "I would just like to point out to everyone that this chaos is totally gelling with the message of the play, and would like to encourage you to keep engaging in this wild storm of mischief and inspiration!" She spread her arms wide and then sat down with a pleased flourish.

Stella quirked an eyebrow and let out a low exasperated sigh that echoed over the awkward silence of the confused room. "Ooooo... kay then... If anybody has any questions... Talk to me…. as...usual…. Scatter, kiddies!" She clapped and the drama club began to mobilize.

"Looks like you're off the hook, Artsie." Liam chuckled, starting to rise.

"Oh for the love of... fine. I'll do it. If only because in doing so? Maybe, just maybe, you'll finally shut up about it. Ten minutes." He lifted a finger as if indicating that everyone should wait as he rose to his feet with an annoyed sigh, tearing the paper, the one he'd been sketching on, out and folding it in half as he made his way to the workshop. He then stopped as he reached Stella. "Oh! Nearly forgot. That costume sketch you've been asking about." He handed her the folded piece of paper and then resumed his walk. She took it casually, unfolding it as she turned her head to talk over her shoulder at him.

"You know you don't have to let them-" Her mic was still on, so she stopped talking, and turned to look down what she'd unfolded. A darkly shaded close up sketch of a !CLOWN! baring his bloody fangs and his makeup smeared awfully, slitted demonic pupils and wild curly hair going every possible direction, out past the edge of the paper, with sharp fingers reaching toward her, a blood splattered nose and a spotted, tattered flower on his lapel.

"EEEEEEEK!" She screamed, the still live mic picking it all up and echoing it all over the auditorium. everybody turned to look and found her stomping on a piece of paper like a normal person stomps on a spider. All the energy of trying to destroy it but the fear of not wanting to to touch it for too long.

"Or maybe less." Artsie grinned, stopping to turn when she screamed. She kicked it away from her and closed her eyes, for all the good that did. The picture of the demon clown was still dancing in front of her eyes. Breathe in… bloody fangs… breathe out… tattered flower…. breath in… smeared face paint…. breath out…. ringed eyes… She caught herself on the edge of the stage, shaking still. Just a picture… just a picture… "Are you alright, Stella?" he asked, the smile fading from his voice as she felt him kneel down on the stage behind her. Stella looked up at the little gathering group.

"Did he...?" Liam simply stared, wide eyed. Jeffrey went to pick up the picture, looking at it, and frowning.

"Dude. This is the worst clown drawing I've ever seen. Doesn't even -look- funny."

"I think that might have been the point…." Anna said as she peeked over his arm. "I think that's the thing she's scared of…"

Jennifer blinked a few times. "Why would anyone be scared of clowns?"

Marianne looked like she was thinking. "Wait…. …. wasn't there like that Joker guy? He was a pretty scary clown… maybe that's why…. and wasn't she like… kidnapped by that Joker guys son?"

"Like I said." Artsie replied. "It's not an uncommon phobia."

"So, seriously?" Jeffrey started to aim the picture at Stella again when Liam snatched it away. "Clowns?"

"There's no need to torment her about it. It's called a phobia because it's irrational." He stated, looking irritated. Artsie gave him an odd look.

"How... shockingly... mature of you, Liam." He noted. Jennifer snatched the picture away from him and held it away making a grimace.

"This could give anyone nightmares. Geez, Artsie, what kind of dark place did you pull this out of." And it got passed around from there. Stella, was trying to adjust herself. The panic was starting to settle down now though. It had been just a picture. She'd be okay… It wasn't ACTUALLY coming to get her…She straightened up a little bit, now that her knees weren't so shaky, she could actually stand up straight.

She cleared her throat and brushed her arms off. "Well, looks like we have a winner…" She even managed to keep her voice, almost, uncracked through most of it. "Any ideas...what you'd like…?"

"I have plenty of ideas. I'm an artist. Ideas are my medium." He chuckled. "But you can ask me about them later. Right now? You'd be much better off finding a place to compose yourself, while I work on final fittings with Marianne." He chuckled, running a finger back over either of his ears and sweeping the long, raven locks out of his face before lifting his gaze to the actress who'd be portraying their primary fae character. "Whenever you're ready."

She looked creeped out as usual, and kind of slunk around him toward the fitting room, then made a break for it when Stella tapped him on the arm quietly. "I was going to talk to her about the acrobatic work. We're going to need to practice. She's more at home on a catwalk than in the air…" Augh, her voice was still awkwardly cracking because her throat felt so dry. Ew.

"So if you would just…. um… give her these to look over while you work. It will give her somethign to do other than squeak at you awkwardly." She handed him a few pages full of diagrams and blocking instructions. Then she took his advice and ran off to the hallway, to get a snack and drink to calm her nerves. Chocolate sounded lovely right now.

By the time she wandered back, about twenty minutes had passed and Marianne was in a tizzy, tugging her long blonde hair out in every direction, staring up at the harness and wires they had set up for the Ariel scenes. People were gathering around giggling.

"Something wrong, Marianne?" She asked with all the care of a bomb technician starting to attempt to defuse a particularly frazzled C4 packet.

"YES. All of…. " She gestured wildly at the harness and up to the network of pulleys and wires. "THAT! Is the problem."

Stella closed her eyes and steeled herself for a long, already repeated conversation. "Ariel's flying is essential to the role, Marianne. She's referred to as an 'airy spirit', and the name of the play is "The Tempest." Air work is crucial. Now, Its true the other girls don't have as much during the party scene as you do, but you don't see them freaking out."

The blonde turned around, her brown eyes darting crazily. If Stella hadn't known any better, she'd say that it looked like the girl was wigging out on some kind of squirreled away fear gas. "Those stunts, they like…. hurt people man… KILL people, or WORSE, PARALYZE THEM." Stella started to feel some resentment boil up and she stood up to her full 5'4 height and glowered at the frantic young woman with much less patience now. Misplaced priorities like that, were taken very seriously in the Grayson household after what had happened to her mother. It was not, the end of the world. Even though her mother HAD recovered, it wasn't exactly a great attitude people had shown her.

"Look, my father came from a family of acrobats, and I've almost spent more of my life above ground than on it. I promise you, that I've planned out perfectly safe routines, and I've double checked that equipment myself, it's perfectly sound, you aren't in any danger." _From the fly wires…._

Marianne shook her head. "I can't DO IT. Either we rewrite the part so I don't have to or… or… or…. I'll walk!" She threatened. Like that was the worst possible thing she could threaten. Stella rolled her eyes and waved to the techies in the shadows and had them lower the harness, pushing it toward the distraught blonde.

"Look, the only way to prove that it is safe is if you give it a shot. So, suit up, and lets do a simply loop around the stage." The pansy flushed panicked and started backing away.

"N-NO! That's exactly how he said it all starts! NO! I QUIT!" And she ran out dramatically leaving a confused Stella holding the clear safety harness with a confused look in her eyes. _He?... Oh no /HE/ didn't._

Stella flung the harness away from her, sending it swinging as she stomped off toward the costume studio and what functioned as Artsie's personal workspace. Normally, she made a point not to bother him, but if she was putting this together right.

"ARTSIE." She knocked on the door as she opened it. "What did you tell her?!"

"Tch..." Artsie's hand slipped and the gem he was placing on the crown he'd been finishing was now cockeyed. "...Dammit... that's epoxy too." He growled lowly, looking the crown over for a moment before throwing it across the room off to the side. "Whom is it I'm supposed to have told something?" He asked after a moment to catch his breath and calm himself. She'd obviously upset him. for a moment, she considered backing up and giving him some space and come back when she hadn't just made him mess up but right now, her professional face was on, not her friendly face. She put her hands on her hips and started at him agitated.

"Our "Airy spirit" who just took a flight of fancy, in a fit of pique, right out the door and quit on us. She said some guy told her that it all started with trials, then apparently it ends in injuries, death, or worse, paralysis…" She growled out the last world with a passive bit of indignation. That, likely wasn't his insinuation doing there, she wasn't blaming that on him.

"And, naturally, the first person I thought of was our own little ray of sunshine who she was in a fitting with when she reviewed the flight plans…. How do you plead?"

"Marianne quit?" Artsie asked, before cutting a short scoff. "Typical primadonna. She was reading over the plans and commenting on how dangerous it looked. Things like 'well what if the wires get tangled?', and 'They're so thin, how're they supposed to hold my weight?'." He rolled his eyes. "I mentioned that it was mostly safe. She wasn't happy with the word 'mostly' in there. So I clarified that accidents have been known to happen every now and again, usually the result of negligence and idiocy and gave her a few examples of known instances that anyone with an internet connection will likely have heard of before. What she extrapolated from that is hardly my fault. I guess she just suddenly realized how much of a negligent idiot she was." He picked up the costume he'd fitted for her and sighed, spreading it out on the table. HE certainly looked sincere about it being unintentional. She started to intense a little bit.

"So, guilty but on accident? " She summarized, but the brisk artist had moved on already, looking down at the filmy blue and green piece with frustration.

"More important question, from my purview, is who will be replacing her?" He asked. "Damned woman... That's an hour of my life I'll never get back." He grumbled.

"I don't know. After the big safety stink she made, I doubt the understudy will be willing to take the role either, considering it was one of her besties. Pretty sure I saw her follow Marianne put. Jennifer can't act to save her life, that's why she has a silent role... I'll have to talk to Kassi-"

"Already here, and with a solution!" Their director popped up behind her and Stella turned around rapidly.

"oh? Well that's quick. "

" Mmmhmm! " the director beamed, waving in their direction dramatically, her aqua sleeve flapping." You, already know the wire work, you do gymnastics, and I have seen you running test Scenes. You can fill the role just fine. Artist, fit her up!"

She turned around as if to walk out on that note and a stammering Stella started to argue. "But Kassie, who will coordinate the stage then if I'm on it?"

"Ariel parts are far enough apart you can still do most of it. You have your assistants to fill in the rest. It will be good practice for them. Happy flying!" then she drifted out like a butterfly leaving a stunned Stella standing there with her arms out in exasperation.

"What... The what?" Artsie watched the scene play out and offered the slightest of smiles and nods when the decision was reached. By the time Stella had turned around to face him again, his eyes were were scouring over her physique.

"You're a more believable fairy anyway." He commented. "You're more slender, visibly athletic. The red hair is commonly mistaken as an Irish trait, which calls old Gaelic myths to mind." He began walking a circle around her, continuing his analysis. His eerie analysis. "I'll need to adjust the colors to better suit your complexion, but that's not a problem." He mused, a hand on his chin and the other folded across his chest. She found herself feeling self conscious about her body for possibly the first time ever. And that included being compared to Kitty. "We'll need to schedule a time for an initial sizing." He finished.

"Well, I'm available now... Or... After everyone clears out of the last rehearsal tonight, I guess I can stay behind. Or I can come in early tomorrow... Since you're the one who ended up short an hour here, I guess you can pick." Her mind was still reeling from this sudden change. " Fair warning, I have a midnight curfew though, so depending on how late Kassie keeps us for rehearsal I may have to run before we are finished." Jack nodded when she'd finished providing options for him.

"We can begin tonight." He noted, after a moment or two of thought. "I can take you home when we're finished for the evening, and if I need more time, we can discuss another arrangement on the way. Sound doable?" He asked, his blue eyes lifting to meet hers.

She looked at them for a moment, them she looked away a little bit more quickly, rubbing the back of her head making her headset wiggle a bit.

"Works for me... I'll have plenty to do getting all the stage work divided up... And... Learning lines... I guess... " she still felt a little confused about that." so... See you after rehearsal then..." this was getting ridiculous. Her family had to be getting to her. All this talk about him being into her was making her imagine tension where there wasn't.

"I'll be waiting." He replied, offering her the lightest of smiles with a nod before turning back to his workshop bench. Whatever crown he'd been working on initially was long forgotten, his attention having been returned, fully, to the Ariel costume. And that was good enough for her as she scurried out of the room before she could start blushing.

It was well after nine before she wandered back to his workshop, knocking on his door with one hand as she started to untangle the headset from her hair while opened the door with the other. Most people didn't even open the door before being told to enter, but, at this point, she was pretty certain he knew who it was. Just in case though.

"Coming in! Ow….ooooow...how did that get so…Hope you're ready…" She called as she stepped inside, still wrestling with it. Her blue green eyes darted over to him quickly, then back to what she was doing. Artsie looked up at her from the mannequin he was busy carving. The block of hardened foam had been shaped into a vaguely female representation of a human body. When Stella entered, he lowered the special blade he'd been using, a sort of straight edge with a handle that looked like the grip of a large flashlight. A second glance would reveal the tool to be home made.

"Indeed." Artsie replied, stepping over to her to help her with her headset dilemma. She started to bat his hands away but got distracted for two reasons. One, he was handcarving a mannequin, and two... He smelled kind of nice... No, two was that she couldn't actually see. That was two. Smell. Hah. Smell. Like (insert snell here). Still talking, he was still talking as he studied the mess she'd made. "Since you'll be too busy for the normal fitting schedule, I'm crafting a body stand in. It won't work -quite- as well, the costume is likely to wind up uncomfortable in places, but, given the nature of the circumstances, it'll have to suffice. We're shorter on time." He explained the obvious and she gave a little bit of a shrug.

She felt parts of it coming loose. "I'll be sizing Marianne's old costume to you tonight, it won't be the one you'll wear to perform in, though. The colors are wrong for you and the material was intended for an actress pretending to be an acrobat, not an actual acrobat." He explained further, a soft smile on his face as he adeptly moved her hair out of the way, allowing the headset to come free. She breathed a sigh of relief and watched him take the headset and motion towards the second of five smaller fitting booths off to the far side of the room which she immediately slipped behind and started admiring the filmy masterpiece he'd made. Shame it had been for an air /head/ not cut out to be an airy spirit.

"Please remove all clothing, and I do mean -all- clothing, before putting it on. Undergarments will interfere with the sizing." He explained, moving back to his workbench and setting the headset on a peg nearby. He then produced a tool box from under the bench, setting it down on the surface and opening it to reveal a wide array of sewing tools. She quirked an eyebrow over at him. How much sense did that make? No undergarments either? Was she not expected to wear them at all during any of this? Not just the fitting, but the performance too?

"What if I intend to wear the undergarments during the performance? Shouldn't they..I don't know… be included in the sizing?" She shut the door finally, blocking him out of sight while he started to get his tools in order.

"Well. If you don't mind spending the duration of the performance with a never ending wedgie and pinched nipples? I suppose that's your business. I hear that's painful, though. And the run time is what? Two hours? Three?" He needled in his subtle, quiet way and she grimaced at the door while slid out of her pants. Luckily he couldn't see her... "But the briefs had better have high straps, and the bra had better have none. Flesh toned for both." He instructed.

"Exactly what are you planning on putting me in? Stick on sparkle and tulle monokini? " she shouted over the edge of the dressing room at him, tossing her black turtleneck up over the door and her jeans right behind it with the solid, somewhat satisfying smack of fabric. "So…. If I wear a thong and a stick on bra, you'll be happy?" She stood up straight suddenly as she was pulling on the ribbony overskirt.

"... …. As…. …. a…. … designer… ….." she clarified slowly, as if unsure that she should clarify. Then she started moving again, finishing putting on the pale blue and green spandex, tulle, and ribbon concoction. She opened the stall door and stepped out, vaguely uncomfortable suddenly. She tucked one hand awkwardly on her opposite hip and one leg tucked awkwardly behind her. No good reason to be though. After all, he'd just seen Marianne in the same outfit, just a few hours earlier. It really wasn't that big of a deal to him, why should it be bothering her?

 _Because I'm the only one embarrassed here… He has nothing to be ashamed of. Just business for him…_ She only let it bug her for a moment before her posture changed, back to normal. Her hands on her hips as she stared him down, still serious about her question. She wouldn't let him weasel his way out of this one.

"You could wear a flesh toned body suit and I'd be relatively happy." He replied, looking her over. She knew what he was looking at. The costume, designed to be worn as a stretchy number which fit securely to the body at all angles, was somewhat loose in places. It didn't make her feel any less on display. There was now a short, circular platform in the middle of the room, a simple, wooden circle with a soft, padded surface on top. He offered his hand to help her step up onto the platform. "Well, let's get started." He smiled and nodded.

Oh good he missed it, or ignored it. Either way, she took his hand to get up on the platform with a sketchy glance around. "Where were you stashing this thing?" The padded vinyl top stuck to her bare feet a little bit, but she'd spent enough time on gymnastics mats it didn't bother her any.

"I've got a great many stashes in this room." Artsie replied with a chuckle, beginning the process with a walk around observation. "You're a touch shorter than Marianne, I'll have to take up the bodice a bit. There's some sagging in the buttocks and breasts..."

She perked up immediately at that, in obvious protest "Like hell there is, my..." she trailed off as she realized he had been critiquing the fit of the outfit, not her body, and she blushed pink right to her ears, embarrassed. "... You were talking about the outfit there..." Stella covered her eyes and groaned "Don't mind me... "

"... it should be simple enough to tighten the slack there." He finished his statement, regardless of her interruption, before clearing his throat. "Your breasts and buttocks are just fine, Stella." He followed up with a chuckle. "You have a body fit for bikini season, and it's only January. You are, by and far, ahead of the curve..." another clearing of the throat. "So to speak. Anyway." He resumed his analysis.

"Right, because that's what I live for. Bikini season. Totally why I stay fit. " she sarcastically tried to dodge the complimentary cover up he offered. Oh how could she have assumed that?

"The bodice... the color isn't sitting quite right. I'll bring in some options to test against your complexion next week." He mused, stepping back around in front of her, his eyes having the same kind of keenly piercing glint as a connoisseur at an art gallery.

"Your hair is exquisite for this role. I'll have some attachments made for it. How prone are you to acne?" He asked, lifting a hand to his chin.

"Nothing cold cream can't usually prevent. Why, what are you thinking?"

"Simply planning. Being prone to acne would require more experimentation with makeup, so that I can appropriately match and blend your skin tone correctly." He explained, before stepping closer to her and placing his hands flat against her abdomen, moving them over the material around the sides, as though smoothing it out. She naturally tensed her core as he started to feel it out. Just part of the fitting. "You're very remarkably toned and sculpted." He commented. She muttered a thank you in before he continued to talk. Hard to interrupt him. "That's good. Means I have more options by way of fabrics to use." Now he was almost mumbling as he knelt down.

Then the damn man did the same thing to her right thigh, and then her left thigh. She squirmed a little bit, not at all used to that being touched In a non combat situation and felt her cheeks start to heat up a little bit more. "You favor your right leg a touch, but not by anywhere near as large a margin as most." She glanced down at him and found him looking up at her. "Are you ambidextrous?"

"Not particularly, but I am a dyed in the wool acrobat... The whole body tends to get involved." She explained simply. A simple explanation of her hobbies.

"Well. It's in your blood. I imagine familial expectations run high in your household." He nodded, rising to his feet and moving around behind her, placing the flats of his palms against her lower back and smoothing the material upwards, prompting her to stand up straighter from the tingling sensation that sent up her spine. Damn body wasn't catching onto the 'professional' nature of what was going on. "And you being as unwilling to fail as you are, I imagine you meet or exceed most all of them." He commented. "It's an impressive trait of yours. That whole 'never give up, never surrender mentality." He added.

He then moved back to a clipboard, featuring a legal pad, on his workbench and began jotting down notes. Now that he was further away, she felt herself start to relax a little bit. "I do try... It does get a little intense... It's funny, I slipped up a little bit a few weeks ago on that and got a mini Spanish inquisition for cooperating just a little on Christmas..."

She rolled her eyes and stretched her arms up toward the ceiling for the moment, kind of enjoying the stretch of the outfit. So this is what the others felt when they suited up. Huh. And this wasn't even properly fitted yet. She wasn't used to it. The top part of her costume was a sturdy leather jacket. Sure her legs were covered in more stretchy material, but even that was far more than regular spandex. Fireproof, Kevlar woven... And probably other surprises too.

"Almost makes me glad to know my parents aren't around much. Mother is supportive enough, when I see her. Father though. I hear he was a real hardass. He isn't ever around. Deadbeat that he is." Artsie replied. "So I have the luxury of being able to do whatever I want, more or less. Whatever my conscience allows anyway." He rambled for a bit, then stopped and lifted his gaze, turning to look at her. It was a little bit of a solemn expression. It struck her at that moment that she had never heard him speak of his family before.

"I don't usually talk about that. I'd appreciate if it remained between us." she lifted her hands up almost defensively and waved it off.

"Of course, I won't say anything. I'll put it in my secret bank and lock the door back up, kay Artsie? "

"Excellent, thank you." He went back to taking notes, so she looked over toward the changing room." Are we good?"

"Not yet. I still have to get the preliminary sizing done." He replied, finishing his notes and turning back to her.

"Ah, alright then... " she stayed where she was though, only fidgeting a little bit, waiting for him to get back to work.

"Now, I will apologize, directly and pre-emptively, for the invasiveness of my methods, something I don't, normally, do. But since you've never seen me work before, and I actually..." He paused and looked down and to the side for a brief moment, as if in brief contemplating, before nodding, a sort of affirmation, perhaps? "...care... about your opinions, which, in and of itself marks you as entirely different from anyone I've ever met before in memory, I feel I should explain a bit before this next phase begins." He locked his gaze onto hers at that point.

"What first drove me to begin working with makeup, was my facial deformity, see..." He lifted a hand and touched a single finger to his cheek, tapping the cheekbone a couple of times for emphasis. "You're incredibly observant, so I know you'd already noticed what no one else had. I'm skilled with a brush and a swab, very skilled, from years of practice and mastery." He nodded. "But no cosmetic ever created, no matter how life-like, or how well toned or colored can ever -perfectly- replicate natural skin." He chuckled. "But fabrics, materials, sewing, costuming?" He nodded. "What first drew my attention to -that-, was a simple curiosity. Fabrics? Are commonly known as 'textiles'." He nodded. "And the sense of touch is commonly called 'tactile', both are simple facts that I'm sure you already knew, but I couldn't help but notice how very very similar the words were. Two letters of separation." He nodded.

"A vast majority of tailors and seamstresses use measuring tools to perform their trade, but those two words are so very similar for a reason." He pointed at her. "And a little bit of research revealed why. Some of the world's most famous and renowned tailors and clothiers, not of today's age, of course, but -true- legends, used nothing more than their sense of touch to perfect their craft. Which brings me to the conclusion of the tale, which is that I operate in the same manner." He nodded.

"so, pretty much, you're going to be very touchy here for the next few minutes and I shouldn't read too much into it?" She summarized cautiously.

"To put a blunt edge on it?" Artsie asked, nodding. "More or less. Yes. I can assure you, Stella. That while I find you attractive, and while I have a great deal of admiration for you as an individual, that I take my craft very seriously. If you feel something I'm doing to be inappropriate, by all means, voice your thoughts and the fitting will cease. If you would prefer to loan me any sort of tight clothing you wear and a set of undergarments, I -can- construct the costume based on those sizes, but it will be imperfect." He nodded, still watching her gaze closely.

She didn't look much more comfortable with that... She shook her head quietly. "Hey, the heads up should be enough. Don't want to mess with your system... Not like I have to worry about you using it as a shallow reason to feel me up, right?"

"Very well. Time is limited, so, if there are no questions, comments, or concerns? I'll begin immediately." He said with a nod of his head, waiting for a moment or two.

"None at the moment..." so why did she feel more like she was bracing herself for combat than a fitting?

"Decisive, intelligent, charismatic, very nearly fearless, attractive..." He chuckled, stepping back over to his toolbox to rifle through it, producing a small belt with several small pouches containing various things from small thread spools and stick pins, to about fifteen different sizes and shapes of sewing needles. "... I almost hate myself for even thinking this, but I find myself compelled to ask the same question Liam has before... why -aren't- you taken?" he asked as he strapped the belt, not around his waist, but over one shoulder, wearing it much like a bandolier. He then turned back to face her and began working.

"Oh, aren't you being funny. " she grimaced down at him, and started looking out at the wall. "I am also highly opinionated, bossy, and unlike most girls, I have standards. Somewhat high, and mildly obscure ones... All together? It's a pretty intimidating package... Apparently...or something like that...what's your excuse? Too busy?" Artsie paused in his work for the briefest of moments when she asked, taking in a breath before continuing.

"I have trust issues." He replied in a quiet voice, adjusting the fabric over her left hip before placing a few stick pins to hold it in place, close to where it met the skin, but without the pins actually touching her. "I've been given very little reason to trust anyone at all, let alone a companion of that personal a nature." He nodded. "People, as a general rule, are greedy, self serving creatures. Even when they do perform niceties and good deeds, there is, vastly more often than not, an ulterior motive of a selfish nature compelling them to do so. Society breeds genuine goodness out of people, and replaces it with the mentality of a shark. Each person sees all other people as inferior and weak, food, to fuel their own ambitions." He explained in further detail. "Seeing things that way keeps one safe, mostly, from the harm others might do to you. But it is not without its price."

"Heh... You sound like my grandfather. He says this town is especially bad for it. At least most places the scum sticks to the underbelly..." she answered quietly before tucking her hands up behind her head and looking down at him. He took advantage of the situation, like the artist he was to change gears and work move there immediately.

"Mm. Good. Hold that position for a moment, please." He commented, his hands sliding up the bodice to smooth the material out over her chest. Marianne had been a more buxom figure, there was some slack to be taken up there. She found herself a little stunned by… suddenly… touch… and there was none too much material between his hand and her chest. She felt her cheeks and collarbone start to heat up. But this was just his professional process, and she had been warned. She didn't want to make a scene about it, so she just straightened up a little bit tighter and bit her lip gently before picking up where she left off.

"...I'm sorry... That you're having such a rough time about it... No one should be alone." She commiserated quietly. "But yes... I understand the whole trust thing... It's a little hard for me too. That's part of the whole high standards thing... But it makes me sound less paranoid the way I put it... Quite a pair, huh?" she chuckled quietly. then she blinked and scrambled to cover up the misstep. "Not like… literally or anything…"

"We would be, wouldn't we?" Artsie replied with a chuckle, having moved around behind her to fix the sagging material on her backside, his hands smoothing it out to either side before noting the alteration with stick pins. He seemed to ignore the patch job on her statement. Damn it. But now what was he doing back there? She started to squirm the tiniest bit. THAT… tickled… and she sort of wanted to make a noise, but again, didn't want to make a scene… dammit, what was he talking about now? She tried to tune back into the conversation. "Even if I didn't have an actual inclination for it? I'd be tempted to for the sake of seeing the look on Liam's face alone." He sighed as he continued working, then stopped for a moment, standing upright and looking a bit on the shocked and remorseful side. "I'm sorry, that was highly inappropriate..." He apologized, before clearing his throat, frowning for a moment, and then going back to work.

"Oh, not at all. That is a hilarious image. Can you imagine it...? " she laughed slowly. "Not only would he be pissed off that after I shut him down so many times I started going with the grumpy, bossy hermit in the makeup room instead of his fabulous face? But you arent even interested in girls, it would be like insult to injury." She giggled a little bit.

"..." He paused again and looked up at her with a curious look, quirking an eyebrow. "As far as everyone else is aware anyway." He noted, before going back to work. "It never fails to amaze me how someone as observant, keen, and intelligent as you are, can overlook some of the simplest and most obvious clues, though." He spoke in a tone that was mostly neutral, though tints of disappointment could be detected.

"Right, as far as everyone is aware, you're pretty much asexual... Jennifer came to the conclusion the other day that you were a eunuch or something similar..." then she caught his tone and she looked down at him confused a little bit. Was she missing something? She started to review the things he'd said tonight. There had been the usual gender neutral terms used... A statement about all of her good qualities, that she had taken to be merely an objective analysis of her traits. His actual inclination statement, hadn't that just meant even though he didn't, he'd fake it? Had she misinterpreted that? And then earlier when he was explaining his process to her. He had said... She replayed it in her mind and he immediately flushed... She'd interpreted that as an objective statement too...

"Oh... I... Artsie... I'm sorry... I've been understanding everything all... Wow... Um... " she moved her hands to bury her face in them, beyond embarrassed. " I am... So... Sorry... "

"You've no reason to apologize, Stella." Artsie chuckled, not stopping his work. "Everyone has interpreted me as I wanted them to." He noted. "Before I joined drama, I'd heard rumors around campus that everyone in it was either a slut or a horny dog, depending strictly on gender." He allowed another light laugh to escape him. "So, when I arrived, I arranged myself in such a way as to make everyone think I was a homosexual. Combine that with my general distaste for company, and my, admittedly, sometimes overzealous reactions to being interrupted..." He nodded. "A guaranteed recipe that the whores of both genders would want nothing to do with me." He chuckled. "Of course, the ruse was only designed to -work- on whores..." He paused and looked up at her briefly. "Never counted on you, though."

She blinked down at him a few times, before she busted out laughing, still covering her mouth with her hand. "So...let me get this straight... You encouraged people to think you were gay, so the girls would leave you alone... Then made sure everyone felt you were cranky and unapproachable to keep the actual gay guys away?" she laughed again loudly.

"Wow... That's... I mean... That's kind of brilliant... I was so convinced I didn't even see that you were contradicting it... I just kind of explained it all away... Exactly what didn't you count on me to do? "

"People are, for the most part, highly predictable." Artsie replied. "They believe what they want to believe. Manipulate their desire correctly, and you can make them believe you're an emu who just wanted to walk among men for a while." He chuckled and paused before moving to her question.

"It isn't anything you did, necessarily. You've done a lot of things, not the least of which being defending my membership in this group when everyone else was ready to throw me under the bus." He noted. "The fact that you're the only one who, despite my very best efforts to make myself a truly despicable character, honored my every request, compromised at every turn, usually in my favor, and always had a plan to make everything work out alright." He nodded. "You handle the pack of whores like an Alpha, and then you turn around and invite me, of all people in your social listing, you invite me, to sit with you at your grandfather's dinner." He nodded. "For you to be that patient with someone the caliber of the character I was presenting? And then still show a personal interest?" He chuckled. "Either you're a glutton for punishment, a truer saint than any church has ever known, or in love with me."

She cleared her throat when he finished postulating her reasoning. "I'm going to ignore the insinuation of being the Alpha slut, and focus on the rest of what you just said. I invited you because I actually enjoy spending time with you, regardless of your ill temper. I'm not particularly masochistic, at...least I don't think… and... well, I think love is pushing it... But I am... fond." she settled on quietly after a few moments open mouthed deliberation with herself "... Of you..."

"Fond is good." Artsie smiled lightly with his brief interjection. Stella smiled at his almost hopeful tone, then continued.

"And I wouldnt say I'm that patient... I just grew up with a curmudgeon, so I got a lot of experience dealing with difficult people. You are standoffish, demanding, obsessive, yes but I think you're also subtly funny, and simply have a low tolerance for bullshit and no reason to pretend otherwise. Which, isn't exactly new or scary for me... So... I guess you are just going to have to deal with me not being scared of you."

"Well. Seasoned veterans are generally more difficult to scare away than common folk." He nodded. "I usually hate that about them, but I find myself glad for it this time." Another light laugh.

She crinkled her nose at him in mock offense, then laughed a little lightly. "Because you're tired of being locked up in a workshop alone?"

"Mmmm." He laughed. "I love working alone." He corrected her a little and she crinkled her nose at him. "But you're half right. I think I'm more tired of still being alone after I leave the workshop." He chuckled.

"I don't know... You seemed to smile plenty when I'm hiding in the dressing room to do my work and we're locked in here together. " she needled teasingly, then her expression got more serious. " You know, Artsie, if you're tired of being alone, you could stop being so prickly to scare people are kind of responsible for that... "

"Very true. Except that doing so would attract the wrong kind of companion. I'm not interested in 'kiss and tell' competitions. I'm less interested in trophies or being one myself." He further detailed. "I am far more interested in a partner. Someone who won't just follow the plan, but will help make it."

Stella grinned. It was awful nice to hear that from somebody other than herself. "All well and good, but if you intentionally scare everyone off, how are you going to find someone at all. It's pretty easy to just tell the leeches no... and hang out waiting for what you do want." Stella proposed, earning a chuckle from Artsie in reply.

"And how has that strategy been working for your situation with Liam?" He asked in an amused tone.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, before responding. "Well, he's more stubborn than most, but he's been kept at whining bay successfully." They both laughed, before Artsie quieted and then took a deep breath.

"Do you believe in fate, or in coincidence?" He asked, almost abruptly.

"In a way, both. I believe some things are fate, and some are coincidence, and it's hard to tell which is which." She answered smoothly. She'd asked herself that question before. It was kind of natural when you saw so much of the hell that Gotham spit out. You had to believe in something.

"Mmmm. The non-committal option." Artsie replied. "I once heard a Christian priest say, that when it comes to the existence of Jesus Christ, there are only two possibilities." Artsie followed up. "Possibility one? He was the genuine article. The biological offspring of God Almighty." He trailed off in tone, leaving it clear that there was more to be said. "Or possibility two, that he was an absolute, stark, raving, mad lunatic." He chuckled. "He said that Jesus Christ was a man who believed himself to be the son of god so completely, that he never, even once, denied his identity. Not when he was scorned or laughed at, not even when they flogged him with a nine tails, and even in his dying breaths? He called to the being that he believed to be his father, for forgiveness for his captors, torturers, and even his murderers." Artsie nodded. "So, either he was right? Or he was wrong. But for a man to endure all he had endured in his life? To never once back down? If he was wrong, he wasn't a liar. No deception can withstand -that- brand of scrutiny." Artsie nodded.

"Personally, I reserve judgement on that particular decision." He nodded. "But the point in stating it, is to point out that, likewise, Fate and Coincidence, cannot coexist." He nodded. "Fate entails an entirely micromanaged layout of the timeline, each event being tied to the next, and so on and so forth, while coincidence? Is a force of pure chaos. In order for fate to exist, to maintain perfect order and execution of some master plan? Coincidence has no room. And likewise in the vice versa." He explained. "Personally? I'm a believer in fate. That the world's path is one enormously scaled chain reaction." He nodded, before looking up at her again. "That everything that happens, no matter how important or seemingly insignificant, has a higher purpose. It's a step in the reaction process leading to the next reaction." He nodded again.

Into philosophy already? She tilted her head and looked down at him quietly. "See, I disagree... Fate has better things than to micromanage that five people in a row ordered strawberry smoothies at Starbucks. That's what I call coincidence. Now, if two people started arguing over the last smoothie, and in doing so ended up negotiating that one will get it today and the next day, buy one for the other? Maybe that would be fate." She shrugged a little bit, messing up one of his measurements with the sudden movement.

"You aren't big on small talk, Artsie, so... What are you leading up to?" Her blue green eyes glinted at him with mock suspicion.

"Well. Given that we're both single, you're fond of me, I'm certainly fond of you, and, as you've pointed out, you're too intimidating, and I'm too..." He paused and chuckled. "...mean, to attract many worthwhile suitors." Her shrug had messed up a measurement, but, surprisingly, he was unfazed by it, simply picking up where she'd messed him up, and continuing onwards. Once the adjustment had been pinned off, he stood upright again.

"It seems only logical and practical that we try a relationship, wouldn't you agree?"

She felt her cheeks flush at how casually he stated that. Like it was the simplest thing in the world. That could really just be decided like that, in one sentence. Like it was nothing more than a fact, even with a questioning lilt on it.

"I would have gone with standoffish... mean implies you are deliberately hurtful…" Stella started to kind of delay the rest of her answer. "Well, that is pretty sound logic... But... Um... Do you think you can just... Logic something like that? I mean... It doesn't just work that way... Just because something is logical... Doesn't mean you do it, and relationships are regularly illogical and..." She trailed off looking at him seriously.

"I didn't suggest that it would be a guaranteed success." He chuckled. "Human emotions are volatile and unpredictable. I merely suggested that a date would be a logical thing to try. A nice dinner, some kind of entertainment afterwards. I've... never dated before... so I have no clue what might qualify as an appropriate locale for such a thing, but... if you're interested? I imagine I could figure it out." He nodded.

She found herself unable to look away from him, so very confused at the moment. In half an hour they had completely turned 180...

"S... Sure... " Artsie paused his work and stood up straight again, looking at her with a somewhat confused expression of his own.

"You sound... uncertain." He noted. "Did I ask too soon?" He asked. "I would have waited, but after Christmas..."

"Well... I just... I've never been asked out that way before... I guess... I'm still processing? " ending with a question made less sense though... It was certainly the most sterile offer of a date ever. Artsie nodded and looked thoughtful, almost a little on the 'self reproaching' side.

"Well, how would you prefer to be asked?" He posed the question, stepping half a step back and raising a hand to his chin. "Liam's advances get him nowhere, so I ruled out the overly direct approach. I wasn't certain if an affectionate approach would be more successful or offensive... An intellectual approach seemed the safest bet." He explained. She rolled her eyes. Not at him, however.

"Liam's approach was overly sexual. Going out with him is asking for being molested. It's implied consent. You go out with him, you know what he's going to do. And it's a superficial reason for him too. He thinks we are supposed to be together because He's a Sionis, and I'm part of the Wayne family. He thinks it will help re establish his family." Stella scoffed again, as she often did when discussing Liam. She lifted her hands and waved them frantically though.

"There wasn't anything wrong with it per se... I mean, the yes is still definite. It's just... A little sterile, I suppose. Like a math equation. It's right, but it's just kind of there..." And here she was critiquing his approach to it and she blushed. _Way to make him feel bad for this. Real supportive, Stell._

"Again, not that there is anything wrong with it. Just surprising. I'm actually really glad you asked... " She tried to defend again, but his blue eyes were clearly already turning again to solve the puzzle presented him. Before she could argue any further, he stated one word simply.

"Sterile." He nodded. "So you would have preferred a more affectionate proposal, without being oversexualized." He nodded further, still looking thoughtful, much like he did when she described a costume concept to him and he began visualizing it. "I think I can manage this." He stated with a nod, and without any further warning, he reached forward, and took her hands gently, leading her to the edge of the platform she was standing on, while stepping towards her himself. Close as they were, he allowed his eyes to scan hers, darting back and forth from one to the other. She watched him quietly, waiting to see where he would go from here with this.

"It would thrill me to no end, Stella, if you would join me at Moroni's for dinner tonight..." He spoke quietly. "So..." he started, then stopped, and his eyes lifted, then he frowned. "That's not a question... it's an assertion..." He sighed. "Apparently, this is not my strongest suit." She chuckled a little bit and squeezed his hands reassuringly.

"It's okay... You already asked the question. That was a much more heartwarming go at it." Stella tugged him closer, the height of the platform allowing her to place a kiss on his forehead when she stood up on her toes. She stepped back again and smiled at him, swaying his hands back and forth while for a few moments. .

"I would love to thrill you to no end and meet you at Moroni's tonight. What time?" She responded to the offer softly, and patiently.

"I was actually thinking that we could finish up here and head straight there." He replied, pulling her close again with a bit of a smile. "I couldn't help but notice that you were making eyes at my car when I visited, so..." He produced a pair of keys from his pocket. "I thought you might like to see the inside as well."

"What can I say? " she shrugged sheepishly. "I love purple... And I don't think there is anything wrong with admiring a sexy car..." Stella protested, squeezing his hand a little tighter as she stepped down off the platform.

"As long as you don't mind me going in my turtleneck and jeans."

"You could wear anything, or nothing at all, and it wouldn't bother me." He chuckled, looking her over. Stella quirked an eyebrow at the insinuation and brushed it off with a giggle as she went to change. "Just leave the costume on the bench. I'll collect it for recrafting later." He called to her and she laid it carefully out on the bench as she put her own clothes back on, and slipped back out of the closet with a stretch.

"And here I thought you'd want me to wear your creation in public. Show it off a little." She teased. Artsie chuckled in response.

"That tragic mess? Hell no. Wait until I've finished -your- costume. That one will be a masterpiece worth showcasing." He nodded with a smile. He'd freshened himself a bit as well, his hair was freshly brushed and pulled back neatly, he'd changed shirts as well, the new shirt a black turtleneck, neatly tucked in.

Stella laughed and reached forward to tug on the gathered neck teasingly. "Awwww... Look at us, a couple of beatnik twinsies!"

"Indeed. You'll be a hit at Moroni's place." Artsie chuckled, before picking up a stuffed duffel bag. Stella noticed that a lot of his materials had been removed from his workshop bench, and his various tools had been put away. Wasn't he productive? Once the bag had been shouldered, he produced his car keys and smiled. "Shall we?" He nodded towards the door, and she grinned, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow.

Stella beamed over at him. This night had gone drastically differently than she had thought it was going to. But… not in a bad way. Embarrassing assumptions and missteps aside, the rest had her totally glowing. Finally, a date with someone she had actually wanted to ask her instead of just tolerated to be polite.

"Let's."

* * *

 **Who'd have thought life could get so chaotic so fast? We'd like to apologize, profusely, for the delay in this chapter. And that's why this one's a longer one than we normally submit.**

 _Its our way of apologizing. We hope it was as fun for you guys, a little bit of a light and fluffy adventure to set up and show some lovely plotty stuff later! The next chapter shouldn't take so long, sorry again about the delay! Let us know what you think!_


	8. Seven: Cards on the Table

**SEATTLE, WASHINGTON**

Another day, another dollar. The young man sighed from behind his desk and leaned back in the leather office chair, turning to look out the window. How long had he been here in this office building? Felt like forever. It was so boring here. If it weren't for the fact that he needed the payday? He wouldn't even be here. His blue eyes scanned the area, looking around at the other lower level employees, all of them dutifully typing away at their computer consoles. He found himself wondering, briefly, as he ran a hand through his shaggy, brown hair, if they felt the same way. People were boring.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!" A voice exploded across the massive, marble lined lobby of the ground floor, and everyone looked up, doing the precise opposite of what the leader of a troupe of no fewer than twenty armed, masked, assailants commanded. The young man's interest waned there, however, and while others stepped forward, some of them smiling, expecting a prank, he moved towards the back of the building. That was when the first shots were fired, one of the bullets grazing his right arm and driving a cry of pain from him, forcing him to duck into another office, where he quickly took cover.

If only he could get to that back corner office. He'd be safe there.

But not long after the gunshots started a wall busted in and several figures flew onto the scene. One in black and blue, one in leather and gold star spangled red and blue, another one a teal and purple blur showing off with a corkscrew and a high pitched wheeee. But while they started fighting with the crowds, orders were shouted, with impressive lung capacity.

"We've got the gunmen. Round up the civilians to safety."

"On it!" A too chipper voice for a vigilante called back. "Alright everyone." She demanded the attention of the scrambling, screaming ,and sometimes crying business folks "There's an emergency exit over this way, make your way here if you can still move. If you are injured, you may stay where you are and I will come by to help you once I've cleared out the rest." Wait...

Was that Batgirl?! He knew that voice! What was she doing all the way out here in Seattle?! He found himself almost uttering a small prayer of thanks as she started helping the still mobile around the corner.

He didn't move. He simply sat there, just inside the office down the hall, and stayed quiet, wincing and clutching his wounded arm. Maybe now that everyone else was distracted he could...

CRASH

Another stray bullet shattered the window inches above his head.

Nope. He'd stay put for now. He'd figure something out, right? Right. Like hell was he gonna die in this dismally boring hellhole. Though it was certainly more entertaining now, at least.

Not long after the last piece of glass wiggled its way out of the window and shattered on the floor next to him, an all too distinctive figure popped her head into the room, frowning concerned. "I applaud your hide and seek capabilities, but sir, I think its time to escape now." She knelt down on one knee and reached a hand out to him. Definitely Batgirl, with the pointed cowl, purple shading on everything, leather jacket emblazoned with the symbol in purple, and jagged cape dragging the floor.

"B-batgirl?" He looked up at the window, then back down at her. "No way I can go out there. They're trying to kill me!" He protested.

"If it makes you feel better, they are trying to kill a lot of people not just you. And don't worry. There are several VERY competent heroes out there blocking most of the bullets, and I'll help with the rest." She spoke calmly, just before an explosion sounded off sending more debris through the window above his head.

"They have bombs now!?" He exclaimed, closing his eyes as the smell of smoke and the crackling sound of fire began coming from outside the room. Her eyes flashed confused as she turned around and stuck her head out to check… and she frowned. Never a good sign when the hero frowned. She turned back to him her face intentionally schooled carefully.

"That was the path to the emergency exit. You work here right? Is there another exit, or a safe and secure room I can take you to?"

"Ye-yeah. I think there's a panic room in the corner office." He nodded shakily.

"Corner office…" She looked up at the ceiling like she was thinking, then without waiting for him this time, she grabbed his uninjured hand and started to tug him to his feet- gently. "Let's get going. We'll keep your injured arm closest to me, okay?" They started toward the door and she looked back at the one sided gunfight going on, and then back toward the direction of the corner office he mentioned.

"Ready, sir?" He nodded, shakily, and followed along, letting her lead the way, he used his good hand and produced a handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket, covering his lower face with it, a little haphazardly as they moved from the office. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw what appeared to be some kind of brown, leather clad cowboy appear for a moment, fire two shots from a pair of revolvers, and then vanish again, leaving only a trail of yellow lightning in his wake. When he turned back to see where they were headed, they had nearly reached the door. His eyes shifted, ever so slightly, to glance back over his shoulder once more, noting that no one else was visible behind them, just as Batgirl's hand touched the doorknob and twisted, opening the door.

"Oh thank you, thank you so much." He seemed more than just a little relieved as they stepped into the room, at which point he moved the handkerchief from his face, his facial expression shifting, instantaneously, from relieved, to a malevolent grin. "You've been very helpful, Stella." He cackled when he saw her pause, which meant she missed him crushing a small vial into the handkerchief and clapping it over her mouth and nose, before she could even finish turning around. "Good girl! You deserve a nap!" He laughed in what he knew would be an all too familiar tone to her. She flailed a little bit trying to pull his hand away from her face, but the drug was fast acting, and sapped her strength before it did her consciousness.

"Damn... It..." she started a muffled threat, but as more and more of her cognizance slipped away it fell into more of a whine. "J... J..." then she crumpled into his arms, meek as a mouse. This particular office had no windows, but what it did have, was a secret door. JJ moved Stella over to the desk and laid her down for a moment, before he tossed the drugged rag to the ground, but not before pouring more of the knockout drug onto it. The first person who went to investigate that one would be in for a bit of a surprise. The thought made him chuckle. He then lifted a hand and ran it back through his hair, pulling the wig he'd been wearing off, revealing his heavily gelled, slicked back, unnatural green hair, which he then shook out for a moment before pulling it back into a ponytail.

"So much better." He sighed and chuckled, looking Stella over for a moment before producing a second handkerchief and beginning to wipe the makeup off of his face, the bleach white skin of his normal, more recognizable visage, showing through in strips. "Note to self... have Bax steal me an oscar for that performance." He cackled before beginning his search for the entry into the cavernous space below.

As for Stella? She wouldn't be waking up for a bit. Not until she'd been moved down into the batcave which had resided below that office building. Not until JJ had removed her leather jacket and utility belt and certainly not until he'd already cleaned out most of the equipment that had been in the cave to begin with, a massive, circular hole, drilled into the batcave wall, marking how he'd managed it. He sat at the computer console now, hacking away at the keyboard, an external drive plugged in, stealing the data from the computer. When she did wake up it was with a grumbling start that drew his attention back to the chair. With her wrists tied to the back legs of the chair, and her ankles tied to front legs, it made it quite difficult for her to move much more than her head, and certainly not sneaky like in any way. Also had the added bonus of pushing her petite chest out for a more pleasant view than the dismal cave, even if it was covered by a light grey tank top this time.

"Mu. Shackash."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" JJ asked, before spinning his chair a bit until it stopped and allowed him to lean forward, staring into her blue green eyes that were glaring back at him accusingly. He was back in his purple and green suit, but had left most of his makeup off. The darker circles had been painted around his eyes, a light red circle had been dusted onto either cheek, and a small red dot on the tip of his nose. His mouth had no painted smile, but he still looked a little on the 'clown-like' side of things. It was, apparently, enough to unsettle her anyway as she had averted her eyes after just a few seconds of contact.

"It's rude." He followed up with a laugh. "I have to hand it to you, Stella. I had thought breaking into this cave was going to be one of the most boring jobs ever." He sighed and continued looking her over. "But you have this... beautiful habit of spicing up everything in my life. I love it." He grinned. "So, if I remove the gag, are you going to play nicely? Or are you going to call your super sensitive friends down here for a real fight." His grin turned a little more dangerous. "I should warn you. I -did- come prepared for them."

She fumed quietly, boring holes in the innocent floor with her eyes. About the time he thought he might have to leave it on, the tension in her shoulders leaked out and she breathed a heavy sigh out against the makeshift gag in submission to his terms.

"Now that's better." JJ grinned, reaching up behind her head to unfasten the makeshift gag, wadding up the handkerchief and stuffing it into a pocket. "Sooooo... how's the fam?" He asked with a grin. She kept her eyes pointed up at the ceiling as she answered him, cheeks flushed.

"Fine. No thanks to you. At least we know why things have been quiet in Gotham." She answered curtly, clearly thinking about something else entirely.

"Your grandfather has these little caches all over the world." He smiled and turned back towards the computer. The progress bar showing the data upload was about seventy-five percent complete. "Each one has the coordinates for five more. This will be the sixth that I've found." He nodded. "If the old bat won't come out and face me of his own volition? I'll just keep taking all of his things and repurposing them. Eventually, the possessive old coot won't be able to stand it anymore. It's just a matter of time, which, incidentally? Is on my side this time." He laughed. her face crinkled up like she had something to say. Instead, she just took a deep breath and just tried to smile.

"And… staging the attack during the day, with an elaborate cover, was more effective than breaking in at night where no one got hurt….why?"

"No one would've gotten hurt, if the supers hadn't wrecked the party. As your kryptonian comrades will likely have discovered by now... my thugs were firing rubber bullets." He replied. "They were only meant to be a distraction. They show up, take hostages, steal some cash, shoot it out with the police... meanwhile, I steal away down here, do my thing, and no one would be the wiser..." He sighed and turned back to her, his smile faint. "Like I said. Boring."

"They shot you too! And...rubber bullets still HURT people. Plus that fire! You could have done this without a scene at all if this was all you wanted. I mean… AUGH." Her frustration mounted and she huffed loudly, leaning back enough that she could bring the front chair legs down with a dramatic thump.

"They shot me on purpose." He explained, removing his jacket and ripping off one sleeve of his green shirt to show the graze wound on his arm. "Solidifies the 'victim' look." He chuckled. "Some neosporin and an ace bandage and I'll be right as rain. The bomb was... not part of the plan." He admitted, looking a bit thoughtful on that note. "And when I find out who used it, they will be made to pay. Accordingly." He narrowed his eyes and laughed a little more darkly.

Stella's eyes darted down to look at the wound. Even tied down to the chair her hands were trying to communicate with how they were flailing desperately around exasperated. "You are... the most… Do you EVEN… I can't….your shirt...This is… You still have not given me a good reason why you had to do this the messy way." She finally decided on a line or argument, as flustered as she was being. It was starting to show adorably in her cheeks, even if she was looking up at the ceiling still.

"You want a good reason for me to commit a crime?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Okay, for starters? EVERYONE tries a crime at night. It's dull and predictable. Secondly? This office building doesn't have anything worth stealing at night, which then makes my target plainly obvious to anyone who really matters. And all of this means that the bat brigade, in its entirety, shows up within an hour, and then -my- party is over before it even really begins." He explained with a bit of a sigh, reaching into his jacket to produce a plastic baggy filled with six or seven party blowers.

"And I had already bought favors, see?" He produced one, put it in his mouth and blew on it, the paper tongue unrolling and pointing at Stella for a moment, before it rolled back up and he laughed again, extracting another one and tucking the mouthpiece of a purple and gold colored one down in between her breasts, underneath her shirt. "Save that one for later, hmmm?" he laughed again putting the bag away and clearing his throat. "Anyway, doing it this way? The only thing that your friends upstairs know? Is that you're missing."

"And you would have been GONE within hours. The better plan would have been to stage a big hullabaloo in Gotham, and then snuck in here at night. No one gets shot. No casualties, and we're too distracted to take care of anything, and you're flying successfully under the radar. Which, means…" She blinked and looked at him, forgetting why she was avoiding him for a moment.

"...You're doing this for attention more than anything else.." The epiphany dawned so suddenly on her she didn't seem to believe it herself.

"I did tell you that I was getting Bats' attention, didn't I?" He replied, leaning closer with a wide smile. "Plus, there was the fact that you were taking a tour in Portland, I did have three other locations I could have hit. But those? Would have been... well... you get the point by now, right?" He laughed.

"Boring?" She filled in the gap with an eyeroll before his sudden closeness seemed to strike her again and she flinched, keeping her eyes closed, and her tone sharp afterwards. "So… all these people got hurt and scared because you wanted my attention…" There was an unspoken guilt in the statement as well. Now what was he going to do about that?

"..." JJ just blinked at her for a moment. "Is this going to be an ongoing thing between us, Stella?" He asked, motioning between them with a hand. "This whole you only listening to half of what I say thing?" He asked.

That little bit of panic flashed across her eyes finally, and she tipped her head back, staring up at the ceiling now, her lips set in a firm grimace. "What half did I miss?"

"The part where I was after your grandfather's attention, perhaps? Or the part where the bomb wasn't in the plan? How about the nonlethal means?" He asked

Didn't seem to make a difference to her "Specifically chose to mess with these poor people because I was in Portland. Still happened, and mental damage is still damage." She replied sharply again. There was a point where JJ felt his smile fading away, she still didn't get it. And more over...

"Mental damage..." He spoke, in a very unimpressed tone. "You want to preach to -me-. Of -all- people. About mental damage." He nodded and pursed his lips, leaning back in his chair. His fingers met one another as his hands lifted to his mouth for a moment. "And here I had taken you at your word when you said you weren't your family." He noted, standing up and walking away a few feet, leaving his back turned to her for a moment or two. "Yet. You keep. Singing. The same. Damned. Song. Do you have ANY idea how tiresome that tune is?" His voice raised as he turned back to her. "You, Stella, need to make a choice, and you need to make it now. Are you just another bat in the belfry? Or are you something else?" he asked, obviously agitated at the moment. "Because this back and forth act of yours? Is growing more than slightly frustrating, I don't mind saying."

"Oh, okay, so let me get this straight." She pointed an awkwardly pointed index finger around first at herself. "If I disapprove of your collateral damage, being made a fool of, being drugged, being TIED up in a...distressingly vulnerable position….I'm suddenly changing who I am? You don't even know HALF of who I am, jackass." Now the finger pointed angrily at him, thought it didn't quite make it all the way, she still tried, her breath coming heavier the angrier she got at him.

"Oh I know everything about you, Stella. That's the point." He responded with a roll of his eyes. "You should really..."

"No, you know facts. Words, on a damn paper, put there by my damn grandfather who is more clinical than...than…. nevermind. IF you know that much about me, you'd know exactly why I'm bothered right now, and you'd know it has NOTHING to do with my family, and EVERYTHING to do with me NOT liking how this all played out, and ESPECIALLY not liking any part I may have played in it!" She blew an angry lock of hair out of her face. "Does that count as making a DECISION?"

"... ... ... stop interrupting me." He mused, finishing his previous thought before chuckling, which then turned into laughter, followed by a slap to his own thigh and a stomp of his foot. "Why didn't you just say so in the -first- place?!" Ohhh the comedy of men and women trying to communicate and doing about as well as a conversation between a deaf man and a mute man. "If it's ONLY the collateral damage you're concerned about? This building had a contingency population of roughly five hundred not-so-hard working individuals. The other two options?" He leaned in closer. "No fewer than fifteen hundred. Each." He chuckled. "So, instead of getting all huffy..." He paused and pointedly looked at her chest, the purple and gold party favor still sticking out from between her, um, assets. "...as attractive as your huffing and puffing is." Her little noise of indignation was adorable, and watching her cheeks turn red was well worth it. He let out a short laugh "You really should be rejoicing in the fact that my unending affections for you led me to hurt fewer people."

Overall that did the trick though, she seemed to simmer down a little bit, even if she looked more uncomfortable, she was less upset. Pointedly looking at the ground again. "That's all I was upset about to begin with. You COULD have done with is NO collateral damage. Instead, you made a mess…for attention of all things..." Just a few seconds later though something else kicked in and her eyes lit up with new awareness. "... … Your unending -what-?"

"Well, I do have expectations set of me." He replied with a chuckle, electing to ignore her adorable little bout of shock at his confession. "Even if they weren't set by you. And, for the love of all things holy, PLEASE spare me the lecture about how I could've chosen the high road, because the high road, for me, would've involved rotting in arkham for the rest of my natural life. My father set the mold, and Bats just couldn't help but shove me right into it. Truth be told it's a wonder I'm not -actually- insane." He laughed again. "Or maybe I am. They say the crazy ones are the ones who don't know, right?"

She was having none of his distractions this time, her face fading back into a serious position with all the tenacity of a just hungry enough to be agitated dog.

"Yeah, we will get to that later. Your unending - what-? " she repeated again. Luckily the pressure of his face paint with her phobia forced her to look away from him before she got too intense in her glower. Back to the ceiling it was.

"... ... Not gonna let that go are you?" He asked with a chuckle. "Very well. Affections, Stella. Unending affections. You know, those things shared between people exploring romance? Shouldn't really strike you as overly strange, honestly. We both lead... rather unique lifestyles, you and I." He nodded. "Few can ever really understand us, because most will only ever know the face we show to the public. In your case, most will only ever know Stella Grayson. Very, very few get the privilege of knowing you as Batgirl, and of those who do? Fewer still will ever truly know you as both. It's much the same for me, really." He lifted a hand to his chest. "Only, in reverse. Many know me as Joker Junior... but so very, very few will ever get to know the real me. Physical attraction..." He pointedly looked her over again with an impressed expression. "... notwithstanding? That is an important piece of the puzzle to me. Call me a sap if you like..." He paused then leaned forward with a grin. "...though if anyone else does, I'll blowing their freaking brains out, but you kinda struck me as the 'whole package' type too... Did I... somehow misread you?"

Her hands looked even more trapped than usual as they started flailing around in a small panic. "I don't even... I... No, NO, no, it is very, VERY, strange... We... Are on... Like opposite sides of the spectrum..." She was blushing so bright, but there was an underlying sense of... Guilt showing through under the shame.

"This isn't about when I… you know... kissed you, is it? Because that was... a... " she took a deep breath to steel herself for what she said next. If he hadn't known better, he'd think she'd rehearsed it. "Really... Really... Bad call on my part. I used that as a shameless distraction, and I am sorry if that...led you on... " she did look quite ashamed of herself for a moment. "But... I did not... Do not... Think that we should be playing with - any- kind of affection, let alone the - unending- kind. I mean... That's just... ... crazy."

"..." JJ paused, blinked, and then laughed heartily again. "You think..." He started, then staggered backwards from laughing so hard. "You... you think this is because of a -kiss-?" He finally got the question out. "I mean, sure! I'm a little narcissistic..." His laughter began fading out and he lifted a hand to blot a tear away from his eye. "But how shallow do you think I -am-?" He finished, shaking his head and letting his laughter fizzle a little further before he cleared his throat, shaking his head and waving his hands side to side in front of him.

"No, no. This is because I've been watching you and your family ever since Christmas. I've seen the way you deal with problems in your life, I've heard the way you speak to friends and enemies, and I know you as both Batgirl and Stella." He replied with a chuckle. Her blush was largely overtaken by embarrassment now, from jumping the gun on her apology. "The kiss, while..." He paused and looked thoughtful "Mmmm..." He licked his lips and nodded with a quirked eyebrow. "...HIGHLY... memorable..." He cleared his throat into his fist and chuckled. "...was merely a spark. An ignition. Had you not given it any fuel? It would have died and grown cold." He laughed, leaning back in his chair again, his arms widely outstretched.

"And months later? Here we are." She was quiet for a few moments longer before she started shifting a little bit,finally recovered from her embarrassment enough to talk.

"... So... We get to add stalking to your list of charges now... " She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat biting her lip as she tried to process everything. He could almost see the thoughts scrambling in her mind through the look in her eyes.

"Well." JJ chuckled in response with another wide grin. "I -am- a criminal, Stella. Stalking... really should've been expected, don't you think?"

"Very funny." Stella crinkled her nose at him. "You do know... That I didn't mean to do that, right? Really not into the Romeo and Juliet star-crossed lovers tragedy thing."

"Except this, Stella, this is not a tragedy." JJ responded, lifting a finger. "This? Is more of a romantic comedy." He laughed, and she scoffed a little bit. "You didn't mean to pour fuel onto the fire, but intent, if life has shown me anything? Is irrelevant. Now..." He leaned forward on his knees again, his smile fading somewhat, until only a light smirk remained. "...I'm not crazy, and we both know that. I know you're not exactly reciprocating my affections at the moment, and frankly? You're half naked and bound to a chair in a musty smelling cave, who can blame you." He leaned even closer, his eyes scanning back and forth into hers, burning with intensity.

"But you can't tell me you didn't feel that spark. You can't possibly have not, at the very least, considered it." He nearly whispered. "Right?" A visible shiver ran through her and she averted her gaze yet again. It was starting to get old.

"It was two months ago… There was a lot going on... Lots of adrenaline in that room... I mean it's really hard to tell WHAT I was feeling. I'd never done... that... before... And... I have no basis for comparison. " Awwww, lookit the adorable little Batgirl trying to stammer her way out of actually giving him an answer! It was so cute, he wanted to film it and post it on social media.

"You are SO evading the question, Stella." JJ called her out on it with a smirk and a finger waggle. He stood up and put a hand on the side of the chair, leaning over her as he prodded a little bit more, watching her eyes go a little bit wider at this sudden change of position. "What are you afraid of? There are no witnesses here, it's just you and me. And you already know that I won't hurt you. So be honest, did you, or did you not, feel the spark?" He repeated the question.

She didn't answer for a few moments. "I don't… have an answer for you…" He raised his other hand to touch her cheek gently, his fingers caressing the skin, his eyes watching his own gesture for a moment before returning to hers. She'd jumped when he'd touched her, still, despite constantly being told he wouldn't hurt her.

"May I kiss you again, then?" He asked, rather bluntly, her eyes going even wider, and he heard her breath catch in her throat for a moment.

"I… don't think that would be a good idea." She finally answered quietly.

"I think it's a wonderful idea, personally." He replied. "Curiosity can be maddening." He chuckled, still searching her eyes for something more than the panic she was showing. That look of reluctant understanding. "Besides, I will make you a deal. If you kiss me, and I mean -really- kiss me, and you don't feel anything? I will walk away and we will never speak of it again. If you do? You owe me one date." He grinned. "Just one chance to test the waters and see what, if anything, might be worth striving for, hm?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"I think it would be a lot more than striving." she tried to argue with him. But he gave her the perfect out, and as predicted, she couldn't resist taking it. "Fine. I'll bite. Lets… try it… Your turn this time, I guess?" Her hands wrapped around the legs of the chair solidly as if bracing herself. Actually, all of her was rather tense. He moved slowly, purposefully, leaning forward and lifting one hand to cup the back of her neck as their lips met and his eyes closed.

The kiss was even more beautiful than their first to him. Her soft lips were a bit less cold this time, and the whole thing lacked the half cocked desperation of Christmas. His free hand produced a knife from his pocket, and he felt her jump beneath him when the blade clicked out. But after a few more movements? Her hands had been freed from bondage, though the kiss deepened as he applied more pressure and continued. Slowly she got more involved, as if remembering what to do, returning some of the pressure back to him. Her hands didn't move from their vice grip on the chair legs though. It was easy enough to correct that, though. He merely leaned forward and applied even more pressure, until the chair began to tip backwards. As predicted, to keep her balance her freed hands came up and wrapped around his neck, and she gave a little noise of surprise into the kiss, adding pleasant vibrations.

His hand gripped the back of the chair, pushing it back even further and smirking into the kiss for a moment before their lips broke away and his eyes opened, smirking back into hers still. The chair still tipped backwards, he watched her responses carefully. Her breath was a little fast ,he cheeks were lightly flushed, and before she could catch herself, he caught sight of a little bit of longing in her eyes.

"So there's a yes..." He chuckled after a short breath.

She looked pink cheeked and agitated, looking away from him and shaking her head. "I was catching myself for balance, you can't count that." She protested at him with a hazy pout that confirmed his conclusion far more than it countered it..

"I can, and I do. So. I will begin planning our date. Oh, but don't worry, it'll be good fun." He smiled and gave her one more kiss. A quick and simple one.

"You… I… Augh...you're impossible.." She grumbled loudly, glaring up at him. But the glare was cut short neatly when he held the knife out in front of her with a grin as he examined the blade. . Despite everything she still flinched. Just once. His eyes darted from the knife blade to her eyes for a moment. "For the record, this is still a terrible exercise in futility." She spoke after a quiet moment.

"Perfectly fine by me. I honestly don't know what I'd do with myself if my efforts weren't being spent on something futile." He laughed lightly, looking deeply into her eyes again, folding the knife closed in between their faces, and watching as some of that ever present tension dissolved. "If you want something badly enough, Stella, you make a way for it to happen. Much like I am now. Perhaps you don't want it yet, but..." He paused, furrowed his eyebrows, narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips and nodded, before smiling again and returning his gaze to hers. Her puzzled, doubtful gaze.

"...I have a good feeling about this." He then lifted the folded knife again, and tapped her nose lightly with it, while he let the chair lower back down the ground, falling back on its feet just the last inch or so. It was cute to watch her jump with the the backlash of the landing. "And stop thinking that I'm going to hurt you, Stella. We've already covered that one. I'm not my father." He dropped the knife into her lap and then righted himself, straightening his jacket lapels and running a hand back over his hair, before turning to collect the hard drive, which had finished it's data download. He then began walking away as the computer began sparking, frying itself.

"Just the same as you won't stop me, because you're not yours either."

She looked down at the knife infuriated. "You're that certain, that I'm just going to sit here while you walk triumphantly out the door, that you're just going to drop a weapon in my lap, and turn your back to me? " She sounded insulted.

"I don't expect you to just sit there, no." He said, still walking, pausing as he reached the massive, circular hole in the wall that had obviously been excavated by some sort of massive, underground machine. He turned to smile back at her. "But you've given me no reason at all not to trust you." He smiled and blew her a kiss before resuming his walk down the tunnel.

"Trust me to WHAT? LET YOU GET AWAY? GREAT." She shouted angrily into the cave. She scrambled to cut her ankle ties angrily, and the sound of her grumbling was still quite obvious, he couldn't help but laugh as he strode away to safety, her continued shouts and grumbles eventually drowned out by the explosion of the C4 charges that collapsed enough of the tunnel he'd been walking through, that none of the supers would be able to chase after him directly. He whistled a happy little tune as he continued strolling, which then became skipping, through the tunnel. She was torn, undecided on whether she wanted to be his little Juliet, or continue being 'daddy's little girl'. Perfect, too, too perfect. But this was only the prelude.

"And now? On! To the main event! WoohoohoohooHOOOO!" he laughed all the way back to the safety of the ship waiting for him on the other side of the tunnel.

 _We are sooo sorry guys about the huge gap. Life kinda hit us all kinds of hell at once… But we promise we haven't forgotten about this story, its still constantly on our mind. Thank you for coming back, we love you, and as always, reviews and favorites are always well appreciated as well!_


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